


Little of this, more of that

by fairywm (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Independent Harry, Mostly Gen, No Sex, No pairings - Freeform, mostly just in good fun, some bashing, some cussing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 57,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/fairywm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a series of random one-shots; some you'll love, some you'll hate and some will fall in between. Some are canon, some are AU. They'll cover almost all eras mentioned in Harry Potter. There will be Independent Harry in some and canon Harry in others. All will divert from canon at some point.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grinning Goblins

**Grinning Goblins**

**Summary: Harry thinks it's absolutely foolish to be rude to someone who is in control of your money.**

**AN: 'Little of this, more of that' is a series of oneshots; some you will love and some you will hate. Some are canon, some are AU. I ask that you give them all a chance. They will cover almost all eras mentioned in Harry Potter. For a list of what I've dreamed up so far check out my profile on ffn. If you can think of anything to add PM me, I'm open to suggestion.**

**Some of you may think from my writings that I don't like Snape, nothing could be further from the truth. I Love Snape, however he's an asshole and if I had to put up with him, I'da done everything I could to get rid of him. But I do love the character, his has the best plot within the entire book, even better than Harry's. Just thought I'd throw that in there.**

**AN2: thanks to my lovely betas, LadyLini and Alibi Nonsense, for all their help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all her [their? might want to clarify] help in my learning to do it on my own. all mistakes are still my own.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox.**

* _blah, blah, blah_ * **are scenes from the books.**

**hphphp**

Harry walked with Hagrid down Diagon Alley. They were going to Gringotts to get Harry's money, but he hadn't even known he'd had money. He thought it was kinda weird that Hagrid had the way to get into his account. If they were in the Muggle world his aunt would have his key; really she should have it anyway. She was his guardian.

* _They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was —_

_"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet._

_He bowed as they walked inside._ *Harry bowed back and the goblin smiled at him, thinking he must be a muggle-born because pure-bloods didn't show such politeness. The children raised in the wizarding world looked down on half-bloods and they hardly ever bowed back.

* _Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:_

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._ *

"Like I said, yer be mad to rob Gringotts," Hagrid said as he clapped Harry on the back, almost making poor boy fall to the ground. "Well let's get yer money."

Harry nodded and followed Hagrid inside. * _A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors,_ *Harry bowed back, again the goblins smiled thinking the same that the first goblin did, they really liked muggle-borns,* _and they were in a vast marble hall_.

_About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter; scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter._ *

"Morning," said Hagrid. "We'd like to make a withdrawal from 'arry's safe."

"Do you have your key?" the goblin said.

"Yeah, got it here somewhere," Hagrid said, and started pulling all sorts of things out of his pockets, piling them on the counter.

"Good Morning... um Gaukrogers," Harry said politely, reading the nameplate. "How are you this fine morning?" If there was one thing he could take from the Dursleys, it was to be polite to anyone who controlled your money.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," said Gaukrogers, nodding to the young man. "I am well. Yourself?"

"I've had a brilliant morning, thank you. It's my birthday you know? And this is the best present I've ever had," Harry said, nodding back with a big smile. He noticed that a lot of wizards in fine robes were looking at him with distain. He wondered what that was all about; after all, he was only being polite.

"Well, then Happy Birthday, Mr. Potter," the goblin grinned at the young man, then turned back to the man making a mess on his counter.

"Thanks," Harry beamed back.

Hagrid finished emptying his pockets, finally found the key and gave it to Gaukrogers. He took the key and examined it. "Seems to be in order," he said.

_*"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."_

_The goblin read the letter carefully. "Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid. "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!_ *Take Mr. Potter and Mr. Hagrid to their vaults."

Griphook came over to the counter and received the key, and, after Hagrid had stuffed all his things back into his pockets, they followed Griphook.

Harry gave him a slight bow. "Morning Griphook," he said. "How are you today?"

"It has been a profitable day, Mr. Potter. Thank you for asking. How are you this morning?" the goblin said, as he guided them into the cart.

"Pretty good so far, thanks." Harry said as he climbed into the cart, but not before he noticed more people were looking at him funny.

Hagrid seemed to have some difficulty climbing into the small cart - large dog trying to get comfortable in a cat's bed - but he did, and they were off.

* _At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering._

_Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late — they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor._ *

Harry was going to ask Hagrid about them but he noticed that Hagrid didn't seem to be enjoying the cart ride as much as he was, so he held off. Griphook looked like he was enjoying the giant man's discomfort —Harry had to wonder why. In a few minutes they arrived at Harry's vault and got out of the cart. Hagrid had to lean against the wall and seem to be trying not to faint. Griphook opened the door with the key and green smoke billowed out. Inside there were mounds gold, silver and bronze coins piled high as the ceiling.

Hagrid, who seemed to have finally gotten his breath back, said, "This is all yers. The gold are galleons, the silver are sickles, and the bronze are knuts. There's seventeen silver sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. Should be easy enough to remember. Here, we'll just get a bag full—should last you a couple of terms." They took a bag off the hook by the door and started filling it.

They took a bag off the hook by the door and started filling it. When they figured they had enough Harry took the and turned to the goblin, "Griphook, how many galleons to a pound?"

"The current rate is five pounds to a galleon." Griphook said turning back to the cart.

"Thanks," Harry said in awe. "Can you tell me how much is in this vault?" He asked as the climbed back into the cart.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, I am only a cart runner. You can ask one of the counter clerks. They should be able to tell you," Griphook said as they waited for Hagrid to clamber in.

"Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please... and can we go more slowly?" Hagrid all but pleaded.

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They went further in to the depths of Gringotts. Harry was pretty sure he saw a dragon but they were going too fast for him to be sure. He noticed that Hagrid still wasn't looking good, "Hey Hagrid do think they have dragons here?" Harry asked.

"Maybe so, I've always wanted a dragon. Now, shush, got to concentrate on me breathin'" the big man mumbled.

When they arrived at the vault Harry noticed that unlike his, this one didn't have a keyhole.

_*"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook._

_"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked._

_"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin_ *— they really didn't like thieves.

"Oh, why do you wait so long?" Harry asked bending his head toward the open door way. He was trying to see what was so important that it needed such a high security. He glanced into the vault, expecting to see treasures, but there was only a grubby looking package that was wrapped in plain brown paper. Hagrid picked it up and put it in his pocket then returned reluctantly to the cart.

"We don't like thieves and have no sympathy towards them," Griphook said, answering Harry's question.

After a long twisted ride that made Hagrid more green, they returned to the surface. They climbed out of the cart and Harry turned to Griphook, smiling.

"That was wicked! Better than any ride I've ever seen! Thanks for taking us." He held out his hand.

"It was not a problem, Mr. Potter. It is my job." Griphook took his hand and they shook. Griphook loved waiting on muggle-born/raised children —they were almost always polite. Too bad most of them started feeling the same as the pure-bloods after a few years of listening to the History Professor at Hogwarts. But, still, it was a pleasure serving them when they were young.

"Good-bye, Griphook, have a good day!" Harry called as they went to the main part of the bank. "Hagrid, why don't you sit on one of those benches? I'm gonna see how much is in my vault," he said, pointing to one of the benches that were lining the side walls of the bank. Hagrid, who looked like he was going to lose his breakfast, decided it was probably a good idea. Harry went to the counter again and read the name tag. "Good morning, Underhill. I was wondering if you could tell me how much is in my vault," Harry said politely.

"Do you have your key?" Underhill said.

"Oh, yeah, Griphook gave it to me when I left the vault," the boy replied, handing over the key. "I was wondering why you don't have checks and credit cards. Surely you could profit from those," he inquired.

"It's not the first time someone has asked that question," Underhill said as he placed the key on a charmed parchment and tapped it with his finger. "Many muggle-born or raised ask it. We tried to get the Ministry to approve it, but they wouldn't budge they called it 'silly muggle stuff'. Since we only control what goes on in the bank and not what goes on in the business world, we can't seem to get it off the ground. We do have people trying though." He returned his focus to the parchment and read, "Your current balance is 800,789 galleons and some change. If you ever want to know how much is in your vault, then you may purchase one of these charmed parchments and it will tell you. They are six sickles a piece and it doesn't register as underage magic use because the charm is on the parchment."

Harry's eyes were wide. That was a lot of money. He did the math in his head and it came to £4,003,945. He hoped the Dursleys never found out. But with that much money he could get clothes that fit. Even if he only got them second-hand they would still fit.

He didn't want to go out and buy all new clothes because the Dursleys would ask where he'd gotten the money.

"If you would like to purchase that parchment now, Mr. Potter I would be more than happy to sell you one," Underhill caught Harry's attention away from his thoughts.

"That would be great," Harry said and paid for the enchanted parchment, he then put it in his too big pants. "Thanks for all your help. I hope you have a good day, Underhill," he said as he walked away from the counter.

"Hagrid, why was everyone looking at me funny while I was in the bank?" Harry said, as they headed to the Alley.

"Well 'arry, it's sorta 'ard ter explain. Ya see not many wizards treat goblins so politely: they think o' goblins as second class citizens. There's been lots of wars with the goblins so they really don't like us, an' most wizards don't like them. Yeh'll learn about that at Hogwarts," Hagrid explained, rubbing his beard in thought. "Codswallop, I say, everyone should be treated with respect if they earned it."

"Oh, that's kinda dumb. You'd think that if they are going to be trusted with your money you'd treat them with more respect. If there is one thing Uncle Vernon taught me it was to respect anyone who has control over your money."

"Don't yer worry none Harry, you just keep bein' polite and they'll be polite right back atcha'," Hagrid said, clapping him on his back, almost making him fall, again. "Let's get yer things."

Harry felt he would heeding this advice and possibly creating a business relationship with the goblins when he was older. For the first time in a long time he found hope. Now, though there was shopping to be done.

**Hphphp**

**AN: I enjoy reading Harry Potter fanfics as much as the next guy, but when Harry nods to the goblin at the bank and they widen their eyes in awe, which makes me giggle. According to Harry Potter Wiki, Gringotts has been around since 1474, so I find it hard to believe that no Muggle-born/raised didn't show politeness to them; Harry couldn't have been the first. And since that makes up half the wizard population that wasn't taught to fear or look down on goblins, then I am sure that at least a third of the first years either wave, nod, or stare at them in fascinated horror. So that is my opinion, and I will be using these oneshots to help get over my writers block on my other stories. I'm not really good at humor, so most of these won't be funny. As always with my fics, as stated on my profile, if you want to pick one up and run with it, you have my blanket permission.**

 


	2. Replacing Binns With Isobel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death doesn't approve

 

**AN: I am flying solo on this one, no beta.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. I don’t own Harry Potter Wikia either. I do own the two OC’s.**

**AN: I added a bit more about Albus, hope you enjoy.**

**blah** adapted by Harry Potter Wiki

**hphphp**

Harry Potter was excited, he on his way to his first magical history class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had always been really good at history, his imaginary friend made sure of it. She’d tell stories for hours about famous people and not so famous people. She said, and Harry believed her, that she was talking to those people as she spoke to him. He really believed her because she could prove it; she let him talk to his parents constantly. In addition, Harry thought she was a ghost of some sort, because when he was a small child, she could always sneak around the house and warn him when his relatives were in a bad mood.

Sally always looked like a little girl of about six. She was short, with black hair, which was pulled up in tiny pig-tails—that bobbed when she walked, well bounce in the air like she was walking. She wore cute, baby-doll type dresses, with bobby socks and tiny, black, shiny little girl dress shoes. She always dressed like she was going to church.

Sally had been with Harry as long as he could remember. She rocked him when he was lonely and dried his tears when he cried. She healed him when he was hurt and told him stories at night to help him sleep. She knew and understood his homework and helped him in every way she could. She never did it for him, because she said he’d never learn that way. She was his best friend he knew so much about both Muggle and wizard the worlds, thanks to her. He learned very early that no one except him could see her. He got three days in the cupboard first time he brought her up to his aunt.

He had asked her once why she didn’t take him away. She told him that Fate decreed he be at his relatives. That there were reasons for somethings to happen the way they must. Which is why she didn’t kill the Dursleys, but she was there to help make it better. So she couldn’t take him away but she could make his life easier.

Now, here Harry was, his first weekday at Hogwarts, going to his third class. The first two classes had been exciting and now he was anxious to see how this one goes. He sat in the back of the class with his new friend Ron, and his sorta friend Hermione. Hermione took out her parchment and writing utensils and set up to take lots of notes. Harry followed suit, his new best mate however, didn’t. Ron seemed to be getting ready to nap.

“Ron,” Harry hissed in the other boy’s ear. “What are you doing?”

“Wha’?” the red head boy answered tiredly. “Fred and George told me all about this class, said it was dead boring. The only thing it’s good for is ‘ischief planning and sleeping. Well, maybe getting caught up on homework.”

“Oh, well let’s hope not, I like history,” the eleven year old messy haired wizard said.

The rest of his year mates had come in and were all settling down at various the desks. This was a Gryffindor/Ravenclaw class. Everyone was startled, and some of the girls even screeched a little. when a ghost of an old man came floating through the chalkboard. The ghost introduced himself as Professor Cuthbert Binns, and that this was the History of Magic class, and if you weren’t scheduled to be here— you were in the wrong class. He then pulled out a large stack of intangible notes and started lecturing.

**The use-to-be human looked to be ancient and shriveled, a little like an old tortoise when he pursed his lips. He wore glasses, which were small and thick, and had a dry, reedy voice that sounded a lot like an old vacuum cleaner, droning on and on.** Which within a half an hour caused half the class to fall asleep. It was now about forty-five minutes into the class when something interesting happened.

“Well,” Sally huffed from right behind Harry’s shoulder, making him jump. This caused Hermione to look at him quizzically. He just gave a slight shake of his head and continued to look forward. “This will never do. I’m not letting _my_ Harry learn from this has-been,” the embodiment of death stated and with a determined look on her cute little face, she stomped up to the front of the class, walked right through the desk and tapped the professor on the forehead, causing him to stop talking and look up. “Teach or leave,” she said in finality.

“What?” said the confused professor as he startled as if coming back to himself, and he looked about the classroom for the first time in a very, very long time. “Hmmm, I don’t remember any of you.” He scratched his withered chin, with his short fingers. “Why are you in my class?” he ask the students, peering through his glasses. The class just stared at him, except for Hermione who had her hand raised to answer.

“I’ll give you one chance, Cuthbert Binns, you can stay here and teach proper or leave,” Sally said, bringing his attention back to her, by getting in the confused professors face.

“Who are you?” he asked, and peered at the little girl, who was far too young to be in his class. She had no school robe on, so maybe she was a Muggle and didn’t know this was a magic class. He wondered how she could have gotten past the wards, and into the castle proper. The rest of class startled wake and watch the now believed crazy professor talk to himself.

“I’m Death,” she replied with a steel glint in her eye, which was out of place on that lovable little face. “You’re dead, so straighten up or leave,” she repeated, she stomped her foot, making her look endearing.

“Oh my,” he said in sudden realization, looking down at his see-through hands, “I’m dead. I’ve always wanted to die. Now, I can meet so many historical people. Thank you,” he said to Sally, who gave an adorable little giggle, angry face fading as if it had never been. Binns then turned to the gobsmacked class and said, “Well, I must be off children. History waits for no man.” And with a jaunty wave, he floated through the chalkboard once again, to his next great adventure.

“Much better,” said Sally with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face. She looked at her charge and saw his confused look and told him, “Don’t worry Harry, try and entertain the class until I get back. I need to get some forms filled out for the person I have in mind. Shouldn’t take a minute,” she said cheerfully, as she too floated through the chalkboard, with a perky bounce, pig-tails bobbing.

Sally had just the person in mind, Isobel Watts, who had been twenty-five when she died in 1977. Isobel had volunteered to come and teach as soon as someone got rid of Binns, she had been whining at Sally for years about how horrible he was. Unfortunately, Sally as a few more important things to worry about than some worn out history teacher—like tending Harry.

Harry gave a minute nod of his head. He looked around the class and noticed that everyone was staring at the front of the class with several different looks on their faces, some in shock, some mild disbelief. Since no one was looking at him, he deduced that wizards and witches couldn’t see or hear Sally either. And that they were staring because, their teacher just disappeared after talking to the air. Maybe they thought an angel came and got the old ghost.

The green eyed wizard hadn’t seen his imaginary friend since he had gotten his letter from Hagrid. So he hadn’t been sure, if wizards could see her or not. He hadn’t worried about her though; she often disappeared and reappeared with days in-between. She told him once not to fear for her, because nothing could kill Death. He never understood that, but he was so happy to see his friend, he let it go.

The messy haired boy nudged the resident book worm, and asked in a whisper, “Hermione, could you go up and start the class? I think we’re about to get a new professor, but someone has to do something. Look people are leaving. And I’m not good in front of people.”

The bushy haired girl looked around the class and noticed some of the boys had started getting their stuff together to leave. She nodded her head decisively, and walked up to the front of the class. She picked up the ex-professors notes from a dusty pile on the desk. These notes were real and not what ex-ghost had been reading, and from the looks of them they had not been used in a very long time. Hermione started reading in a loud firm voice.

Some of the students nodded and started making notes. The boys that had been about to leave gave Hermione, a hard glare and continued to the door. They stopped when they heard an older female voice say sharply, “Sit down, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Finnigan, and Mr. Thomas.” No one bothered to ask how she knew the names. Had they, then they would know that she always watched this class hoping her dream to teach it would come true, even in death.

The boys turned and what they saw was another ghost. She was tall and slender, with a nice womanly figure, and looked to be in her upper twenties. She had what appeared to be brown hair, pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head. And, well, they couldn’t tell what her eye color was because it was so bleached out. She was dressed in formal teaching robes and had a ghost of a ruler in her right hand, and was tapping it into the palm her left hand.

“My name is Isobel Watts, I was a Ravenclaw here in the 1970’s,” she stated, looking around the class as they all started to settle. This bit of information perked Harry right up. She had went to school with his parents, he only knew things from their perspective; maybe she could tell him something different about them. “I studied for years to be the Professor of Magical History. However, before I could take the position I was killed by Voldemort” —she ignored the gasps — “during his reign of terror. I received an O on my NEWT’s— Nastily Exhausting Wizards Test, you’ll take them to graduate,” she explained seeing the confused looks. “Thanks to my good friend, Sally, I’ll be taking over for this class. Now sit down and open your books to chapter fourteen.”

The class complied and Professor Watts taught an amazing class. She started by telling them all about the Grindelwald wars, and the headmaster’s role in them.

** Gellert Grindelwald was born 1882,” the lecture began, “and was considered one of the most powerful Dark Wizards of all time, second only to Tom Marvolo Riddle, who later became known as Lord Voldemort,” she said and glared at the gasps coming from some of her class. “Mr. Grindelwald was schooled at Durmstrang Institute until his expulsion, history is not sure why he was expelled, though rumor has it that it was for practicing the Dark Arts on students and faculty. The Durmstrang Institute is a Wizarding school that is notorious for teaching the Dark Arts. It is located in the northernmost regions of Norway or Sweden. We’re not sure exactly where; they tend to keep it is a secret. Durmstrang has, however, taught students from as far afield as Bulgaria,” she explained remembering this was a class of first years. Some of whom had never heard of magic until maybe six month ago.

Professor Watts looked around the room to make sure everyone was paying attention and then continued when she saw they were.

“Later he fostered a friendship with Albus Dumbledore, while living in Godric's Hollow for a summer with his great-aunt, Bathilda Bagshot. Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is the headmaster of this school. He is a half-blood wizard, the son of Percival and Kendra Dumbledore, and the elder brother of Aberforth and Ariana. His father died in Azkaban when Dumbledore was young, while his mother and sister were later accidentally killed. His early losses greatly affected him early on, but in turn made him a better person. Albus Dumbledore was considered to be the most powerful wizard of his time. He was most famous for his defeat of Gellert Grindelwald, the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with Nicolas Flamel (we’ll learn about him in another class) and he became, the Transfiguration Professor, and later Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Professor Dumbledore now serves as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot,” Professor Watts continued on, in a sharp voice that garnered no nonsense.

“The two young men —Gellert and Albus— made plans to find the Deathly Hallows…,” she paused seeing more blank looks. “The Deathly Hallows said to be three highly powerful magical objects supposedly created by Death and given to each of three brothers in the Peverell family. They consisted of the Elder Wand, an immensely powerful wand that was considered undefeatable. The Resurrection Stone, a stone which could summon the spirits of the dead. And the Cloak of Invisibility, which, as its name suggests, renders the user completely invisible. We will learn about the Peverells in another class,” she said ignoring the grumbles. “According to legend, he who possesses these three artefacts would become the Master of Death. Though this is just that a legend,” she informed them, with a firm look in her eye, confirming that this was not a fact.

“Grindelwald and Dumbledore wanted to find these and wield their new-found power as Masters of Death, leading a Wizarding revolution with the aim of ending the International Statute of Secrecy and creating a benevolent global order led by wise and powerful witches and wizards,” Professor Watts continued, “Their partnership fell apart after the two were involved in a three-way duel with Aberforth Dumbledore that resulted in Ariana Dumbledore's death,** she summarized, realizing she didn’t have much time with this class as it was almost over.

“Grindelwald then left Britain and soon stole the Elder Wand, preceding alone with the revolution he and Dumbledore had planned. He established a power base in continental Europe at the fortress Nurmengard. He was a highly idealistic man, but marred by sociopathic tendencies and his links with the Dark Arts. He was a revolutionary operating outside the law. He was not a wanton killer or torturer,” she educated them steadfastly, tapping her ghostly ruler on her hands punctuating her words. “But, he and his followers in a single-minded and unpopular quest (his allies must often be unsavory characters as well), committed numerous crimes, including several known murders.

“In 1945, at the height of Grindelwald power, Professor Dumbledore confronted and defeated him in a legendary duel. Grindelwald was subsequently imprisoned in his own fortress for where he resided to this day,” ** she concluded. “Now for homework, I want you to look up and find anything you can about Grindelwald, his fortress and his army and give me a one foot essay. No more than one foot, you need to learn to be concise, to be turned in on Tuesday.”

Between the bell and some grumbling students, the rest of the class gathered their belongings and in excited whispers, left the classroom. Sally had asked Harry to stay behind, so he waved Ron and Hermione on and wandered to the front of the class with his best friend.

Sally giggled and gave Isobel a big hug around her waist. “That was a great class,” she enthused, still giggling like the little girl she portrayed. Harry agreed with a fast nod of his head, still shy around adults. “Harry was wondering if you knew anything about his parents,” Sally inquired for him. “I’ve let him talk to them, of course, but he wants a different point of view.”

Isobel face morphed into sadness. While she did know of the Potters, it was mostly by rumor. They had been in different Houses and in different years. “Have a seat Harry. I’ll tell you what I know,” she said and indicated the desk in front of her.

Since this was the class before lunch Harry sat and listened to the rumors Professor Watts had heard. Mostly about his dad and his dad’s prankster buddies. He was warned to watch out for Professor Snape, since he seemed to be his dad’s group’s favorite target. Sally, of course would dissuade the potion master of any harm to her charge. But that was a different story.

About twenty minutes before lunch’s end, Headmaster Dumbledore came into the room. “Who might you be?” he asked the new ghost. He was mildly amused and more than slightly upset, that there had been a seemingly change of staff without his consult.

“I’m Professor Isobel Watts,” she replied, giving the headmaster a jerky nod. She was a little nervous, though Sally had told her that he could do nothing to make her leave. She grew up on stories of his power.

“Ah, I seem to remember you,” the aged headmaster said, stroking his beard. “Ravenclaw, was it? Graduated in 1970? Died in ’77 I believe, one of the Death Eater raids.” He looked the ghost up and down and asked, “How did you come to be here? I did not call you. And what did you do to poor Cuthbert?” his eye twinkled dimmed at the questions, no longer amused.

“I,” she snapped indignantly, “didn’t do anything to Binns. He was gone when I got here.” She knew Dumbledore couldn’t see Sally, and that the only person alive that could, was Harry Potter—unless Death’s avatar wished it otherwise. “If you recall, you senile old bat, I applied for this position many times when I was alive. You,” she jabbed a finger right through his chest, causing the old man to shiver, “kept turning me down. It looks like Hogwarts overruled you,” her voice slightly condescending. She never really liked that this one man had so much political power, hence her lesson today. She might still be a little intimidated, but that didn’t mean she approved.

“Yes, I do recall that. You wanted me to evict a perfectly good professor, just so that you may take his place. Hardly, an endearing quality for a professor,” he said again examining the ghost in front of him. He did not understand how she could be there, this castle it’s wards were his to control. No spirit should have been able to enter without this express knowledge. Yet, here she was , in all her spectral glory, glaring at him in daring manner. He brought himself back to the matter at hand and said, “Consequently, the reason for me not taking you on in that capacity. Now then, I’m going to have to ask you to leave this castle at once. I do not approve of your choice of lesson today,” he commanded/asked, his grandfather voice nowhere in existence.

Harry started to cower; he never like raised voices and only defended himself when it was necessary. Sally quickly latched on to the boy and tried to sooth him. Ready at any minute to reveal herself and protect her young charge.

Professor Watts noticed and tried to calm down. “Headmaster,” she said soothingly, “we seem to have a difference of opinion. However, there is a student here. Maybe we should take this up to your office?” she arched an eyebrow, daring him to argue.

The Headmaster came back to himself with a small shake of his head, and seemed to see Harry for the first time. “I apologize for scaring you, my boy. Please, proceeded to your next class,” he told the cringing young man. Harry quickly got up, gathered his belongings and scurried out of the class. Sally hot at his heals, she’d take care of that old fool after she made sure the running wizard did indeed make it to his class.

The two professors, after placing a sign on the door that class was canceled for the day, went to the Headmaster’s office. What went on there is a different story. However, Isobel did continue to teach and no matter what the Headmaster did, he could not rid of her. She also continued to educate her students on what _she_ felt was important. The Headmaster never approved.

Hphphp

**Should I tell the tale of the fight between the ghost and the Headmaster?**

**Sally and Isobel are two of my OC’s from ‘Potters Stand United’ and that scene will play out pretty much like this one. When I get around to actually writing it, but, I thought I would put it here for those of you not following that fic. Enjoy.**


	3. The Mistake of Harry Potter and Snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Harry can stand up to his abusive relatives why would he not stand up to Snape?

AN: Thanks to my lovely beta, LadyLini, for all her help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all her help in my learning to do it myself. All mistakes are still my own. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. 

*blah* are scenes taken from the book.

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry Potter and his two new friends went into potions class. Harry had been looking forward to this class since he had read through the book. He was rather excited. He wanted to do really well in the class. The three friends found seats in the middle of class and waited for the professor. 

Professor Snape came into the classroom and *like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity.” 

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid’s, but they had none of Hagrid’s warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.” 

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn’t a dunderhead. 

“Potter!” said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” 

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione’s hand had shot into the air. 

“I don’t know, sir,” said Harry. 

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer. “Tut, tut — fame clearly isn’t everything.”

Harry was now annoyed. He did not pay for his schooling to be picked on by a professor. He turned away from his notes and caldron and looked directly into Snape’s eyes and said. “What is your problem? I know for a fact that that question isn’t in the first chapter of the potions book, nor is it in the second chapter. I would like to know why you’re asking me a question that no one but Hermione seems to know the answer to? I didn’t pay for an education to be berated by the professor.”

Snape just sneered at him again. “You are just as arrogant as your father. You think you should have special privileges just because you are a Potter and the Boy Who Lived. Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek” 

“You know as well as the entire British Wizarding World that my father died in 1981 when I was fifteen months old. How would I know what my father was like? And that is not the point. You’re a professor; you shouldn’t be calling us dunderheads. You shouldn’t be pointing out that I’m a celebrity. What you should be doing is teaching us potions. I, for one, think that, because it is our money paying your salary, that you should get on with it,” Harry said angrily and, feeling he had made his point, turned himself back to his caldron. 

Snape glared angerly a the young boy, then returned to the front of the class and pointed to the blackboard. “You are going to be brewing the potion on the board. The ingredients you need you should have obtained with your school kit. The recipe is in your books, as well. What are you waiting for? Get to work,” he snapped at the class. 

Snape lurked around the classroom, pointing out how well Malfoy had done on his potion and how the Gryffindors were messing theirs up. . Then *Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. 

“Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?” 

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. “Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape spat at Seamus. * Then he rounded on Harry and Ron. “You—Potter—why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? Two Points from Gryffindor for trying to look good.” 

Now Harry was mad. “I’m sorry, what? Neville is sitting two people away from me. How am I supposed to brew my potion and watch Neville brew his? You know, I was looking forward to this class, but now I think I am going to go and talk to my Head of House and see why I am paying for such a crappy education.” Harry took up his books and shoved them in his book-bag, then headed out the door.

The students looked on in wonder. 

“If you leave this classroom, I will take twenty-five points from Gryffindor, and you will have detention with me for a week. You are just like your father,” Snape shouted.

“And you are an arrogant bully that doesn’t seem to listen,” Harry stated as he left the room. 

Because it was the last class of the day, Harry figured that Professor McGonagall would be done with her class soon. So, he waited outside the transfiguration classroom. When the class was done and the students had left the classroom, Harry headed in. 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Potter? And why are you not in class?” Professor McGonagall peered over her glasses, giving Harry a stern look, like she knew he had been up to mischief. 

Harry could not figure out why the professor was looking at him in such a way. She was looking at him like he had been getting into trouble all week, and she was expecting that he was the cause of the reason he was here now. “Professor, I would like to make a complaint. Professor Snape, in my first class, asked me a question that I had no way of knowing the answer to. I know because I read the first two chapters of my potions book. And when I informed him that I did not know the answer, he belittled me in front of the whole class and took points off for cheek. Then, without any preparation, set us to brewing a cure for boils. Neville melted his caldron, which caused Neville to be covered in the potion he was brewing. And instead of asking if he was okay or treating him for his wounds, Snape berated him by calling him an idiot, then blamed me, stating that I let it happen just to make myself look good, then took points away from Gryffindor. When I stated that I shouldn’t have to put up with such abuse and left the classroom, he took more points off and gave me detention,” Harry complained, hoping that she would listen to him. 

Professor McGonagall continued to look over her glasses at Harry like she was disappointed in him. “What did you do to anger Professor Snape? Professor Snape has a hard class and has to be strict so that accidents don’t happen. If Mr. Longbottom had done his work correctly, his caldron would not have melted, and he would not have been hurt. You should not have left the classroom before the bell rang. So, you will just have to do the detention and take the loss of points. I am surprised that you did not take the class seriously. Your mother was quite well versed in potions.” 

Harry looked at her in shock. He was really starting to regret coming to Hogwarts. Sure it was cool to learn magic and all, but having grown up with little to no personal possessions, he knew that money was something to be valued closely. Though he was not too frugal, he did know that money should not be wasted. Why were all the professors comparing him to his parents? While he did want to know more about his parents, they were not telling him anything except that he fell short of their expectations. So much for House being family.

“Um, is there a PTA or something? Maybe a school board that I can write to? Or maybe I could speak to the Headmaster,” Harry asked, hoping that he could solve this problem, since it seemed that the person he was supposed to come to for support wouldn’t be helping him.

“I do not know what a PTA is, and the Headmaster is far too busy to listen to the complaints of the students. There is a Board of Governors, but why would you write to them? It is not their job to listen to students. That is the job of the Head of Houses,” the shocked McGonagall said. 

“Thank you for your time, Professor,” Harry said as he turned and walked out of the classroom, not really believing what he was hearing. This is what he was paying for? He needed to write a letter, then he needed to make a plan. He knew it probably wouldn’t work. If he were to go to the PTA in the muggle world, they would defer him to his aunt, who was on the PTA, so that never worked. But his aunt wasn’t here now, so maybe if he got everyone to tell their parents, it might just work. 

HPHPHPHPHPHP

It was after dinner on Friday that Harry stood up and went to the Head table. The professors looked at him with curiosity alight in their eyes. Harry turned and looked out to the students tables and yelled, “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” Only a few of the students seemed to hear him, but they nudged their neighbors, and everyone’s attention was gradually turning toward the Head table.

Professor Snape stood and yelled at Harry, “Ten points from Gryffindor for disturbing dinner. You are just like your father, thinking that you can get away with breaking the rules just to get attention.” 

Harry looked at the Headmaster and his Head of House. They were looking on, but did nothing to deter Snape. Harry shook his head and turned back to the students. “Does anyone know a spell that will let everyone hear me?” 

One of the seventh year Ravenclaws came up to the front and cast the Sonorus spell on Harry with a nod.

“Thanks,” Harry said. “I have been here for one week, and I would like to say that I am very disappointed by the fact that my money is being spent on a faulty school. Here is a letter I have written to the Board of Governor’s. If you are smart, you will have your parents or guardians write a letter as well. 

“ ‘To Whom It May Concern:

I am a first year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I wish to tell you that, if this is the education I am paying for, I would like to withdraw and get a full refund. I will look to other schools. 

You are the Board of Governors of this school; it is your job to make sure that we are getting the education we are paying for. You have a ghost teaching outdated history classes that very few pay attention to. Is he being paid? Because if he is, you are wasting my tuition. You have a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that stutters so badly that we can’t understand him. You have a Potions professor that not only belittles the class in his opening speech, but doesn’t teach them how to brew the potions he requests. He simply writes the directions on the board and tells us to sink or swim. And when one of his students does sink, he puts the blame on another student instead of showing the student what they did wrong. 

When I took my complaints to my Head of House, I was told that it was the fault of the students for not listening. No investigation was made. No questions were asked. Nothing was said about the unfair treatment that the students receive in class or the points that were deducted. Because this was the first step in the chain of command at the school, and I was shot down before I even started, I feel that I would be better off taking my complaints elsewhere. 

I also wanted to point out that in the opening speech of the Headmasters, we were told there was something in this school that would kill us. I don’t want to pay for a school that I can’t safely walk around and explore. I shouldn’t, as a child, have to look out for my own safety in a school that I am going to be boarded in for almost ten months of the year. 

I will be telling all of the students that they should write to their parents as well and inform them that they are wasting their money and should also look elsewhere. 

Thank you for your time. You can send my refund to Gringotts.

Sincerely,

Harry James Potter’

I have already sent this letter to the Board and encourage you to do the same.”

The students and professors looked at him in shock. The Boy Who Lived would really leave Hogwarts? The Headmaster stood up and, with that grandfatherly disappointed look, said, “Harry, I am sorry but you cannot leave the school. I am your magical guardian, and I forbid it.”

“What is a magical guardian? And if you were any sort of good guardian, magical or otherwise, you would support me in getting a good education and not treat me like I am the one at fault here,” Harry said, completely flabbergasted. He had to wonder why, if Dumbledore was his magical guardian, where has he been all these years. And if he wanted to keep Harry at Hogwarts, what was his plan?

“Harry, Hogwarts is the premier school in all of Great Britain. You will not find a better education than you will here,” Dumbledore said, letting his voice carry through the entire hall so that the students would hear his opinion. Everyone knew that Dumbledore’s words were like the Word of God, or so he believed.

“Then I will go back to the muggle world and take my chances. I will not pay for a school that condones bullying by a professor and does not support the students. What qualifications do your professors have? Out of the six classes I have, only three have shown they are qualified to teach. In the Muggle world, teachers have to go to school for years to get the qualifications to teach children, and they are not allowed to abuse their position. They are paid to teach. If Professor Snape has been teaching that way since he signed on, I have to wonder how many students have been hurt. If he were teaching in the muggle world, he would not have lasted a single year. I am surprised that no one has complained about him before. And if they have, why has nothing been done about it? We are paying his salary. Why doesn’t anyone understand that?” Harry asked, turning to the students, hoping they would hear what he was saying and start questioning what was going on in this school.

“Professor Snape has my complete trust, Harry,” the twinkle-eyed Headmaster stated. 

“That doesn’t answer my question. I asked what his qualifications are.” Harry demanded, vehemently turning angrily back to the Head Table. 

“Professor Snape is one of the youngest Potion Masters in centuries.” 

“Well, that’s great. How does that qualify him to teach children? If I was to get on to the Quidditch team in my first year, making me one of the youngest players in centuries, would that qualify me to teach Quidditch? No. I would have to go through training in order to become a Quidditch coach. Just because someone is good at something, doesn’t mean they can teach it. I stood up here to tell the students something, and he stood up and took points for something that is not against any rules and called me a defamatory name, yet you and my Head of House sat and did nothing. Now, I have only been here a week, but I can tell that, no matter what I say, the people who are responsible for giving me a good education and protecting my interests will do nothing for me. Why should I stay?” Harry asked as the whole school looked on and listened. 

The muggle-born and raised were realizing that Harry was correct. They had been so caught up in the wonders of the new world, that they had forgotten that their parents were paying for this. And not one of them disagreed on the fact that Snape was not a great professor. Even the Slytherins were secretly agreeing. If it were not for self-study, they also would not be doing well in that class. Snape might compliment them and degrade the rest, but that was not helping them to learn anything. 

The half-bloods and pure-bloods also knew that their parents were paying for this, but because their parents went to this school, they figured that this was pretty much as good as it got. 

“Harry, my boy, let’s take this to my office. Let me cancel that spell. Finite. Now, Harry, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape, if you will follow me. Students, please return to your meals. If you are done, you may leave,” said the Headmaster as he stood to lead the way to his office. 

They followed the Headmaster until he reached the gargoyle that guarded his office. After he gave the password, they rode the winding stairs, then they all filed in. The Headmaster took his seat behind his desk, the two professors moved to stand behind him, and Harry sat on one of the chairs in front of the desk. 

 

Harry looked around the office. It was colorful and full of many moving trinkets. There were portraits of people that looked old staring down at him. He wondered who they were. Turning back to face the Headmaster and professors, he waited to see what they had to say.

 

The Headmaster broke the silence first. “Harry, I am very disappointed in you. Why did you send a letter to the Board instead of coming to me first?”

“You should ask Professor McGonagall. I went to her after my first potions class and was told that everything that had happened in that class was the students’ fault and that the Headmaster and the Board had no time to listen to students complaints. She did not ask any other students that were in the class if what I said was true or not. The blame was automatically place on Neville and me,” Harry stated, grumpily crossing his arms across his chest. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by this man or by Snape. If he could stand up to his Uncle Vernon, he could stand up to these people. If there was one thing his childhood had taught him, it was to never give into bullies, no matter what form they took. 

“He is just like his father, always trying to get people in trouble with his pitiful excuses. He will never live up to his mother, and, though I loath to say it, even his father was smarter than this little brat.” Snape sneered, looking down his long hook nose at Harry. 

Harry waited. And waited. And for two minutes, nothing was said. “This is why I wrote to the Board, and this is why I am looking to take my education elsewhere. This is why I told the students what I am doing. This man who looks to be in his thirties is belittling an eleven-year-old boy whom he has meet once, yet you two, who are above him in the chain of command, are sitting there and letting him do it. I want a way home. I will be withdrawing from this school. If you don’t put your students above all else, you are not doing your job,” Harry said.

“I am afraid I cannot let you leave Hogwarts, Harry. There is not better school for you, and this is the safest place for you to be educated. As your magical guardian, I must insist that you remain here,” the Headmaster said calmly. 

“So my concerns mean nothing. I want to ask, if I were any other student, would we be sitting here right now? I want to tell you right now that if you force me to stay in this school, where I am not getting my money’s worth, I will do nothing in class. I will dispute any house points removed from me. I will not attend any detention I do not earn. I will write to the Board weekly with progress reports. If I don’t get a response from them, I will find a way to get my story heard in the papers. I will encourage the students to do the same. I shouldn't be forced to stay where I don’t feel I am being treated properly. 

“As for you being my magical guardian, I want to see it in writing, and I want a definition as to what your role is in my life. I have never met you before today, and if you are any type of guardian, I should have known you all my life. Or, at the very least, you should have been the one to introduce me to the magical world. So, I say you are not really doing your job,” Harry said, fed up with the way he was being side-lined. 

“Potter, you will show the Headmaster some respect,” Professor McGonagall snapped.

“I have not disrespected the Headmaster. I am simply stating the facts as I see them,” Harry stated with a look of resignation. He was starting to realize he would probably have to make good on his threats. 

“What can we do to make it so that you don’t feel as if you have to leave Hogwarts, Harry?” the Headmaster asked, serenely ignoring the by-play. 

“You can either make the professors teach correctly, or you can replace them. In Charms, Herbology, and Transfigurations, we were taught the theory behind these arts. We were told what would happen if we did something wrong. We were given basic safety protocols. In Potions, we were told the directions were on the board and to get started. No instructions or directions on how to cut or stir. No precautions or safety. No telling us what would happen if we didn’t take the caldron off the heat before adding the quills. Just get started. That is not teaching, and it is very dangerous, as someone in my first class proved. And because I read the first two chapters of my book, I can tell you that nothing is stated there either. I spent two galleons on that book; it should be more informative. But I figured that, perhaps, these things would be taught to us by a competent professor. I was wrong,” Harry said with nothing but contempt on his face, looking directly at Snape to make sure he knew how he felt about the potions class.

“It is not my fault that you are too much of a dunderhead to follow simple instructions,” Snape scoffed, ignoring the fact that Harry had completed his potion without mishap. 

Harry ignored him. “My parents left me money for my education, and I do know the value of a pound. And I know my money is not being well spent here. We have to buy our own equipment and books, as well as pay tuition. I would think that we should have at least competent professors. I wonder if the magical world has to live up to the standards of the muggle world. I wonder if I should write to the Prime Minister and ask him to look that up. Because I can tell you, right now, that your school falls far below the standards of muggle state schools—and those are free. We are paying for this, and that includes the meals, the up keep for the castle, and professors’ salaries. We should be getting a higher standard of education from here than the schools we wouldn’t have to pay for,” Harry stated, feeling that he needed to get his point across. He really didn’t want to leave Hogwarts, but was going to stand by his beliefs. 

“I am afraid that I would have to decline your requests, Harry. I am the Headmaster of this school, and it is up to me to set the standards. I feel that they are just fine, right where they are. I also will decline your request for information on magical guardians, as I feel you are too young to worry about that right now. Now, why don’t you return to your common room and start on your homework? And don’t forget that you have detention with Professor Snape this evening, as well as for the rest of the week,” Dumbledore said as he shoo’d Harry out of his office. Snape sneered at Harry, knowing that the Headmaster had won this round and put that brat in his place.

Harry stared at him with great disbelief. They really were not going to listen to a word he had said. They were going to try to make him attend a detention that he didn’t earn. Nothing was going to be done. Harry shook his head and left the office, then made his way to the common room. 

HPHPHPHPHPHP

The Headmaster really should have closed the owlery that night. Hundreds of owls cluttered the sky to get their missives off to unaware parents. 

HPHPHPHPHPHP

When he reached the common room, Hermione asked him, “Oh Harry, did you get in too much trouble? You should not talk about the professors that way. You could be expelled.” 

Because Harry really didn’t know Hermione all that well, he figured that he would try to make her understand, rather than blowing up at her. “Hermione, were you not in the same class I was? If you wrote to your parents and told them that one of your professors was calling you names and not teaching you, what do you think they would say? If you told them that you went to your Head of House and told her what happened in that class. Then were told there was nothing they could do about it and that it was probably your fault anyway, what do you think they would say? If you wrote your parents and told them that on your first day in Hogwarts, you were told that you could meet your death by going down a corridor, do you really think that they wouldn’t complain or try to pull you from the school? I would hope that your parents care for you better than my guardians care for me—they don’t care whether I live or die, but I know most parents do care for their children.” By this point, Harry had the entire common room listening and thinking about what he was saying. 

“Now, I just came from the Headmasters office and was basically told to sit down and shut up, because they’re not going to listen to me anyway. I was told that I would have to keep the point reduction, which I didn’t deserve, and that I would have to serve the unfair detention. Not only was I told that I cannot leave this school, but also that I should not expect my money to pay for a quality education. So, essentially, they are robbing you and your parents blind. Think about it, Hermione. Would a teacher in a state school be allowed to teach this way? If a free state school has standards, is it unreasonable that we should expect higher standards because we are paying?

“I am letting you all know, right now, that I don’t give a damn about the point system. So, if these professors take points off me for standing up for my rights, then so be it. I have morals, and I will defend my rights, no matter what. I also told the Headmaster that I’ll not be attending any of the detentions that I don’t deserve. Because I’ve not broken any rules, I’m not serving detention with Professor Snape. I told the Headmaster that I will be sending weekly reports to the Board about what is going on in this school, and I encourage you to do the same. It’s up to you guys if you want to stand up for your rights or if you write to your parents, because I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be wasting my time or money on a poor quality education.

“I would like to know whether or not the magical world has to live by the same rules as the muggle world. I am hoping that those of you that have parents working in the Ministry can answer that question for me. Also, I am being held prisoner here on my own dime.” At the confused looks of the pure-bloods, Harry clarified, “It is a muggle term. Basically, what I’m saying is I’m paying to be forced to stay here against my will.” Harry looked at all the thoughtful faces and said, “I’m going to bed.” 

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Word spread as gossip was wont to do in Hogwarts. By the end of the weekend, everyone knew what Harry had said in his common room. Letters were sent to parents and the Board. Parents sent letters to the Board and the Ministry. Owls flew all weekend long. In the muggle world, phone calls were made. 

 

Harry simply stayed the Gryffindor tower and had one of the other students bring his meals. He did not do his homework. He did not serve his detention. He did not do anything. Hermione tried to get him to do his homework, but he told her that he was protesting and would not be swayed. 

“But Harry, what if you are expelled?” Hermione asked in exasperation. She was getting tired of trying to make Harry see her way. 

“Good then. I have already made it clear that I don’t want to be here. I’m pretty sure that I’ve said that more than once. I don’t understand why you’re not hearing me,” Harry said calmly, continuing to read his book. 

To Hermione, getting expelled was a fate worse than death. She couldn’t see why anyone would want to leave the school. And, while she did agree that Hogwarts could probably do better, she didn’t think it was her place to say. And she told Harry so. 

Harry looked up from his book and said, “Um, Hermione, how are the adults supposed to know if we don’t tell them? They need that type of information to make an informed decision.” 

Hermione looked at him, her mouth shaped like an O. She had never really thought of it that way. From the looks on some of the students in the common room, they hadn’t either. 

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Monday came, and at breakfast time, the doors to the Great Hall opened and admitted what looked to be about twenty adult witches and wizards. Eight of them had blue robes on. Four of them had red robes on. The rest were in various styles and colors. 

The Headmaster rose and greeted the guests. “Ah, Governor Amelia, Minister—and the rest of you ladies and gentlemen. What can I do for you today?” 

A pudgy man with a lime green suit and bowler hat stepped forward. “Albus, why have I been receiving owls all weekend protesting the teachings of this school? The portrait in the Prime Minister’s office is telling me he has been receiving felly-tone calls from parents all weekend, as well. I am sure I don’t have tell you that we don’t want the muggle government poking their noses into our business. And I am sure that the good people behind me are wondering what in Merlin’s name is going on. I am getting complaints about abusive professors, authority figures not doing their jobs, and students feeling that they are not receiving the education they have paid for. Some are saying that Harry Potter is being held prisoner here against his will. What in Merlin’s name is going on here? The school has only been open for a week.”

Harry looked on, feeling like it was about time someone listened to him. It also answered a few of his questions, like the one about the Prime Minister. He figured some of the muggle-born/raised parents had been sending those in. He wondered how they knew that the Prime Minister knew about the magical world. They must have been older students.

The Headmaster with his twinkly eyes and grandfather face looked at the crowd and stated, “I am sure it is all a misunderstanding. I am sorry that your time has been wasted in coming down here. I can assure you that all is quite well within Hogwarts.”

A stern looking woman with a monocle stepped past the sputtering Minister. “I have received no less than 100 letters stating that the students were told to stay away from the third floor corridor on the left side—if they did not want to face a gruesome death. I don’t know about some parents, but my niece goes here, and if there is something that will cause her death in this school, then, by Merlin, I will pull her out and get a refund. What the hell are you playing at Albus? And, another thing—I also received a letter from my niece informing me that Professor Snape, in his first class, caused two girls to cry because he yelled at them and called them names for not completing a potion correctly, which she also told me was not taught to them. Throwing directions on the board and telling the students to get started is not teaching. I am not paying you to keep that bully in this school. I don’t give a damn what he did for you during the war. If you want my niece to remain here, you will dismiss that Death Eater at once,” the woman stated in a very loud voice that carried across the hall. Then, turning to the wizards in red robes, she said, “Go to the third floor corridor on the left hand side, and find out what is so dangerous that it would kill a student. Find out what safety measures are in place. If it is something you can remove, do so. And find out if there is anything else up there that we should be worried about.”

The men gave salute and left to do as they were ordered. Before the Headmaster could protest, one of the men in blue robes came forward. “We, the Board of Governors, would also like to know what you are playing at, Headmaster. We have been sent ultimatums from parents all weekend, ordering us to either improve the school or they will also pull their students out. That is over 200 students, more than half of the student body. We called an emergency meeting yesterday, and it was decided that all professors will be evaluated for the a period of one month, and anyone not teaching correctly or bullying their students will be dismissed at once. The point system and detentions will go through the Board for that month. If we find any professor showing favoritism toward any group of students, that professor will be suspended from giving any disciplinary action without the consideration of the student’s Head of House. 

“The students will all be interviewed, with a Head of House present, about how they feel about the education they are receiving here. All classes this week are canceled for these interviews. The monitoring of the professors will begin next week.” 

“I am sure that that will not be necessary. I can assure you that all my professors have my deepest trust,” the Headmaster said as he raised his hands in a manner meant to placate. 

“And, another thing,” the man continued, as if Dumbledore had never spoken. “If the Aurors find that you are keeping something in that hall that really can kill a student, you will be dismissed. This is a school, Headmaster Dumbledore, not your personal playground. This is not a place to play your games or keep your pets,” the man stated with a loathsome look to Snape. “Parents pay tuition to make sure that their child is highly educated and safe. From the letters I have been receiving, this is not the case. I can tell you that we cannot afford to lose half of the students. In case you don’t remember, Headmaster, we are your bosses, and you answer to us. We are the ones who pay your salaries. It would do you well to remember that.” 

Harry looked at the Head table. Some of the professors looked smug, while others looked very worried. Professors Snape and Quirrell looked very pale. The rest of the adults there had not said anything, though they did look like they agreed with everything that had been said. Harry figured that they must be parents of students. 

The man who had spoken went up to the Head table and, turning to the students, cast the Sororus charm, then said, “Students, when you have finished your breakfast, I would like all first and second years to remain seated. All other students may do as they please. Classes are canceled for this week, and I suggest that you take that time to do some studying. Tomorrow, we will talk to third and fourth years, and so on. If anyone would like to have their parent or guardian here while you are interviewed, you may have a professor help you get in contact with them. For those not able to use the floo, you may send an owl and will be interviewed this Friday. If your parents are muggles, we will provide travel for them. All Heads of Houses will also remain. The rest of the professors may find it helpful to reflect on their teaching methods. Thank you for your time, and please forgive us for interrupting your meal.” 

Breakfast finished, and all the students in third year and above left the hall. There were two Governors for each table. The Heads of Houses were told to pick a different house than their own. Gryffindor's table got Professor Flitwick. Harry had to wait for a while, as they were going in alphabetical order.

While Harry was waiting, he saw one of the men in red robes reenter the room and go to the woman with the monocle, then speak in to her ear. When he was finished, she looked very angry. The woman went to the man in the blue robe and whispered in his ear. They, in turn, went up to the Headmaster and cast a spell. Harry couldn’t hear what they were saying—all he could see was a lot of arms thrown in the air and the Headmaster trying to keep them calm—, but things didn’t look good for the Headmaster. 

Then it was Harry’s turn to be interviewed. The witch and the wizard introduced themselves and Madam Frostly and Mr. Priceton. Madam Frostly started the interview with, “Mr. Potter, we received your letter first. At first, to our shame, we did not really regard it as something we should take notice of. Then we started receiving many other letters sent to us over the weekend. I would like to ask you, before we get started on the real questions, why did you write to us? It states in your letter that you went to your Head of House first, and she told you that there was nothing to be done. Why did you not accept her word? What made you pursue it further?” 

Harry sat back and thought about how best to word this. “In my Primary school, there was a new teacher who would scold the children harshly. When she made one of the girls cry in class, that girl went home and told her parents what had happened. The parents went to the principle and asked him what was going on. When the principle didn’t help, they went to the PTA—Parent Teacher Association,” he clarified at their confused looks. “It is a muggle group of parents that watch the school to make sure that it runs smoothly and that all of the children are treated equally. Anyway, when the chairperson of the PTA confronted the principle, they were blown off again. So, the PTA went to the Department of Education, who then looked into what was happening. That teacher was then put on probation. A week later, after her attitude didn’t change, she was fired. If a state school, that is, a school that is paid for by the government and is open to all students, requires fair treatment to all students, I felt that a school being paid for by the parents should demand the same. And because my Head of House blew me off, I went directly to you, as I don’t believe there is a PTA for this school, though you might want to go to a muggle school and check it out. I think it would benefit Hogwarts to have one,” Harry explained. Then he looked at the two wizards in front of him closely. 

“I would like to ask a few questions myself,” Harry went on. “I am new here, and even in this first week, we were told by the upper years that Professor Snape was not one to get on the bad side of. We were told that he yells and screams in his class. We were told to make sure we read our books two chapters ahead. Now, my question is, has anyone before me complained? Because I find it hard to believe in the ten or so years I am told he has worked here that no one has complained about him. And if there have been complaints, why is he still here? And let’s not even get started on the History of Magic professor. Why should we pay for a class that is basically naptime to all but a few? Or the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who stutters so badly that we can’t understand him and seems to be afraid of his own shadow? That is three professors out of six in our first year. And if there is a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, why has it not been removed? Or do you really have to have the threats of parents removing their children from Hogwarts to get you people to do your job? It is our tuition that pays your salaries? Sorry if you find my questions rude, but I’ve been brushed off and more or less told I'm being held prisoner in this school. So if you will excuse me, please. I have had a bad week, due in large part to the lack of support from the staff,” Harry ranted; he really had had a bad week. 

The two Governors looked shocked at being spoken to in such a way by a child. They did have to step back and consider the child’s questions, though. Of course they received complaints every year for the first month or so about at least two of the professors that Harry had named. However, they were told every year by the Headmaster that he would have words with Snape, and they always accepted that answer. With the first of the year being a busy time for the Board, they usually took the Headmaster’s word that it was being taken care of. 

They kept Binns, the History professor, on because they felt it was tradition. But did they really want people pulling their children from school to keep up with tradition?

They had all heard rumors about there being a curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but they had brushed it off as superstition. Because they left the hiring of the professors to the Headmaster, they had never really paid any attention to it. They might want to think about forming a committee to take over the hiring of professors and to investigate complaints. The committee could also assign mandatory inspections if the complaints amounted to more than ten. They also might want to get the committee to look into the wards, as well. If they were letting something dangerous into the school or were keeping a curse from being noticed, it might just be time find out why and to update them. 

Turning back to Harry, Madam Frostly said, “I am sorry to hear that you have had such a bad start at our school. We will, of course, take your words under advisement. Now, for the interviews, here are the questions we are asking everyone.” She then continued to ask baseline questions like, “What do you think of your History Class?” or “How do you like your common room and dorm?” “Do you feel that the professors or your Head of House are there for you when you need have a question answered?” Simple things.

Then Harry was asked what he thought would be needed to improve the school. He gave the same answers that he had given Dumbledore. 

After the interview, Harry went to his common room and played chess with Neville.

“Hey Neville,” he asked, “what is a magical guardian? Dumbledore says he’s mine, but I’ve never met him before yesterday.”

“Well, I am not completely sure what it is to the muggle-born or raised. ‘Cause Gran is my legal and magical guardian. I do know they are responsible for what happens to you while you are in the Wizarding World, though. Say you need to get supplies in Diagon Alley. It is up to them to make sure you have the money, and they should take you there to make sure you are safe. My Gran told me that guardians are to make sure you get to the healers to get all your shots and to keep records straight, that you get your yearly physical and all that, and because muggles can’t find our hospitals, it is up to the magical guardians to do so. That is the whole reason for them to be assigned in the first place. Muggles can’t get around in the Wizarding World without escort, so the magical guardian is supposed to do what a muggle legal guardian would do if they could,” the shy boy stated. 

Harry looked at him, trying not to convey his confusion. “Huh, thanks Neville. I wonder if there are any books on magical guardians in the library. What to come with?” Harry got up to head to the library. 

Neville got up to follow. “Sure. If there aren’t any books there, I will ask my Gran if she knows where there might be some.”

HPHPHPHPHPHP

The next morning, Harry noticed that neither the Headmaster nor Professor Quirell were at the Head Table, though the eight Governors were there and looking pretty grim. Professor McGonagall stood and tapped her glass to get everyone’s attention. “Attention, everyone. I am sorry to say that Mr. Dumbledore is no longer Headmaster of Hogwarts. I am temporarily Headmistress until the Board decides otherwise. A letter has been sent home to your family to let them know. I would also like to say that the third floor is safe again. Professor Quirell has also resigned for health reasons. We are hoping that by the end of the week we will have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for you. Thank you. You may return to your meals.”

Whispers flew around the room; everyone wondered what had happened. 

By the end of the week, both Professor Snape and Binns were fired. Dumbledore was hired on to take over the Potions class, as he was qualified to do so. History was canceled until a new professor could be found. The Board looked outside the castle for a new Headmaster and hired the American, Paul Signet, for the job, as well as Jessie Princeton as Deputy Headmistress. They found new Heads of Houses for all four houses, leaving professors as just professors in order that they could focus on their classes.

Because the school looked to be shaping up, Harry decided to stay on. He would give it until the end of the year, then see if it was worth his money. Headmaster Signet said that there would be new classes next year, and he was looking forward to that. If not, he could look into other schools. Because this Headmaster did not care where the students spent their summers, Harry decided that he would see if one of his friends could put him up. He still needed to find out what a magical guardian was. He and Neville hadn’t found any information in the library, so Neville had sent a letter off to his Gran. 

But that is another story. 

HPHPHPHPHPHP

AN: I’ve always felt that Snape got away with far too much shit and that Dumbledore had far too many responsibilities. I think Harry’s school years would have been much better without Snape. I hired Dumbledore back on as a professor because he needs to be in castle, just not in charge. Quirrell/Voldemort left because the stone was returned to its owner, and he didn’t need to be there anymore. Neither the Aurors nor the Board knew he was possessed. 

AN 2: (UPDATE): I had one reviewer tell me that it was stupid of me to put McGonagall as Headmistress. I completely agree. Although, they also pointed out that Dumbledore should not remain in the castle teaching potions. Two things about that: 1) Dumbledore was a trained alchemist and was a transfigurations professor, and therefore he is qualified to teach potions. The reason I kept him in the castle was that Voldemort is afraid of him, and Harry is not trained. However, this review has caused me to reread the end and rewrite it.


	4. What? We can’t Jog?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets other students when he goes to breakfast early one morning and finds they’ve just come from jogging and exercising.

AN: Thanks to my lovely beta, LadyLini, for all her help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all her help in my learning to do it on my own. All mistakes are still my own. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. 

AN2: Millie was an OC that I introduced in the oneshot We’ve Tried.

 

*blah* comes from Harry Potter wikia

 

hphphp++

Harry was walking to the Great Hall. He had been up earlier and wanted to go jogging or something. It wouldn’t do to get out of shape and have Dudley catch him off guard when he went home during summer break. From what he noticed, most wizards don’t exercise. There weren’t any gym classes and the only work-out they got was from climbing the stairs and the occasional flying lesson.

He had looked out a window, glancing at the lake, and didn’t see anyone, so he figured that the students just let themselves go. Maybe I’ll go jogging by the lake. It’s really far from the castle, though. It might get really cold during the winter, he thought to himself. 

It was then that Harry heard a group of people coming his way. They were chattering and didn’t seem to be of any trouble, so he continued down the stairs. As the voices got closer, he noticed a large group of people wearing jogging suits coming his way. He recognized one of the girls in his house; it was his friend Millie Foster. She was in seventh year, and it was she that had explained that they'd been trying to get Snape and Binns fired for years, but nothing they had tried worked. Millie and Hermione had also talked about helping Harry remain caught up on his studies for the Muggle World. They were going to visit him over the summer and try to keep his relatives off his back. Harry was also going to hire Millie as his tutor. “Hey, Millie. Good morning. What’s going on?” 

“Oh! Hey, Harry! We’re just finishing up our morning exercises, and now we’re going to take a shower. I’ll see you at breakfast, yeah?” She turned to Harry her red face, shining with sweat. 

“Oh, I was just thinking I might do that. I didn’t see anyone around the lake so I figured no one did,” Harry replied with a shrug and shuffled his feet a little. He still wasn’t use to talking to upper years.

“The lake? Why would we go to the lake when we have a courtyard here in the castle? It’s still cold in the winter, but it’s inside so it is not as windy,” she said confusedly. “You silly firsties are always thinking that you’re the first to think of something.” She ruffled his hair.

“Oi! Get off!” Harry pushed her hand away and tried vainly to right his hair. “It’s messy enough without your help. And I didn’t think I was the first. Remember, I told you I checked. It’s not like they give tours of the castle, so how would I know there are courtyards?” he asked indignantly. “So what’s this courtyard like, and where is it?”

Millie waved at her friends to tell them to go on without her. Harry noticed that some of her friends were in different houses, and he was pretty sure he saw a few from Slytherin. He looked to Millie with some confusion; He had been warned not to make friends with Slytherins. He was told that the upper year Slytherins would hurt him for being in Gryffindor. 

“Noticed that did ya?” Millie asked. “Don’t worry; these guys have been working out with me for years. We just make sure that no one bothers us.” She settled against the wall. “Now as to your question about the courtyard, it’s called the Middle or Transfiguration courtyard. It’s off the Transfiguration classroom; about two doors down you can see an arch. You’ve probably haven’t gone that far down the hall. Anyway *this courtyard has grass in the open area, in which a big tree has grown over the centuries. There is one massive iron Armillary Sphere that stands in the center,*it’s not as big around as the lake but we just jog around it a bit more to make up for it. Near the center is a nice spot to do jumping jacks and the like. And like I said, it’s inside and not far from the Great Hall, though we have to trudge up the stairs to get clean afterwards. We just call it the cooling down part of our work out.”

“Oh. Do you think I can join you? And can I ask my friends and bunkmates?” Harry asked, getting excited. “Do you think I can meet more people from different houses? You guys should ask the other first years if they want to join so they don’t have to feel left out.” 

“Sure, kid, no problem. You can ask anyone you want. It’s no secret. You’re right, though. We did sort of forget to ask you guys. Well, I’m off. I’m starting to reek.” And with that, she jogged up the stairs to get cleaned up before breakfast. 

Harry finished making his way to the Great Hall. He sat at the table and thought about what he had just learned. This would be great, especially if he could get Ron and Hermione to join in. It would also help him clear his mind. He always felt better after he got over the adrenalin rush caused by Dudley chasing him.

The food appeared on the table, but Harry just pulled out a potions book and waited for his friends. After a while, Hermione joined him. “Hey, Harry! Good morning. What are you doing up so early? You’re usually not down here so early.”

“Oh,” Harry said, putting his book besides his plate. “Morning, Hermione. I was thinking about getting some exercise so I won’t get out of shape. I didn’t see anyone by the lake, so I didn’t know there was a group of people that got up early and went to the courtyard by the Transfiguration classroom. Which is good, ‘cause I really didn’t want to go to the lake. I ran into Millie, and she said we could join her—damn,” he said, snapping his fingers and ignoring Hermione’s “language, Harry,” “I forgot to ask her what time. Do you want to join?”

“Well, I’m not really an exercise person, but I suppose I can walk around the courtyard while you run,” she said, not wanting to abandon her friend.

“Yeah, that’d be good. Maybe if you like that you could work your way up to jogging. I know I think better when I get some running in.” 

They were joined by Ron and Neville and the other boys from first year. The first year girls didn’t seem to be down yet, probably still getting ready or something silly like that. Everyone started loading their plates. “Wat ‘ere you ‘alkin about?” came the garbled voice of Ron. 

“Really, Ronald, is it too much to ask to swallow before you talk? How are we supposed to understand you?” Hermione huffed.

Ron swallowed. “Whatever. I said, ‘what were you talking about?’ ” He took another bite of his eggs while he waited for them to answer.

“Well, I was asking Hermione if she wanted to go to the Transfiguration courtyard with me and some others early in the mornings so we can do some exercise,” Harry said, taking a bite of his breakfast. 

“Really,” said Dean, “that’d be great. I’m getting all flabby what with all this lazing around.” He grabbed his not-flabby tummy and tried to wiggle it. “My coach woulda killed me if he’d known. Did you say others were there? Can I come too?”

The wizard raised boys were looking on with something akin to horror. “What’s jogging?” Neville asked, interested. If Dean said it keeps him from being flabby, then maybe Neville could start and lose some of this baby fat. It certainly did sound better than lying in his bed every morning while he waited for the others to get up. He didn’t like going anywhere alone yet. Harry must have gotten up earlier than he did; he hadn’t heard him leave this morning.

“Get up early?” Ron said in disbelief at the same time Neville, “Why would you want to get up any earlier than we already do?” 

Hermione turned to Neville and ignored Ron, then went about explaining to him what a normal morning workout consisted of.

Harry turned to Dean. “I ran into my friend Millie, she’s in seventh year, and she and a group of people from all of the houses get up and work out. You can join, if you like. When she gets down here I’m gonna ask what time.” Then he turned to Ron, “You don’t have to join if you don’t want to, but I’m not going to get lazy during the school year and let my cousin catch me and beat me up during the summer, just because I didn’t work out here.” He turned back to his meal.

Ron’s ears turned red. He knew a little about Harry’s home life from the discussions that Harry and Hermione had about how they were going to try and make it better. Mental, the both of them, wanting to do school work in the summer—and now wanting to get up early! I’m not going to join in that. I’m going to stay in my nice warm bed until I have to get up. And with a firm nod of his head, he went back to eating.

“Well, I’m in. Just let me know what time, okay, Harry?” Dean said, then he turned to Seamus and started telling him what they were talking about and trying to convince him to join in. 

“Sure, Dean,” Harry said to the back of his bunkmate’s head with an indulgent smile, use to his bunkmates ways. He was glad those two got on so well. Maybe he would put in more effort with Neville. He couldn't have too many friends after all. Besides, it could do Neville some good. Merlin knows Ron wasn’t really making an effort. And Neville seemed to know more about the Wizarding World than Ron. Not that Harry was going to stop being friends with Ron, but he wanted to know more about the world he lived in now, and Neville would have a different point of view. Harry hoped to make more friends from this expedition into merging his culture with the Wizarding one.. 

Millie joined them and told Harry that she was going to talk to her workout partners and let them know to ask the other firsties. She told all the people that wanted to join the workout group that they got up at six-o’clock a.m. and gathered in the entrance hall. There, they all went to the courtyard together so they could start at the same time. She smirked at some of the groans and told them they’d get use to it. She told them to just wear their most comfortable clothes until they could write home for a jogging suit. She would write to her parents about getting a set for Harry because she knew his relatives wouldn’t get it for him, even if he asked, which he probably wouldn't.

The group of five first years joined Millie and her mates the next morning, but when they got to the entrance hall the group looked like it had more than twenty first years. This was going to be fun.

hphphp  
AN3: I’ve always found it kinda funny how in a lot of fics Harry takes up jogging and does it around the lake and he is the only one doing it. I know of only two that even touch on it; there might be more. So here is my take on that.


	5. What About Our Points?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the houses demand they get points for getting past the traps.

AN: Thanks to my lovely beta, LadyLini, for all her help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all her help in my learning to do it on my own. all mistakes are still my own. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. 

*blah, blah, blah* quotes from Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone Scholastic.

*blah, blah, blah* was taken from Wikipedia

hphphp+++

*“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes … “First—to Mr. Ronald Weasley…” 

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn. 

“… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.” 

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, “My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall’s giant chess set!” *

There were some confused looks from the other tables, why were these first years getting points for breaking the rules? Some tried to be heard above the noise coming from the Gryffindor table, but they were drowned out. They settled down to see what else Dumbledore had to say; Maybe they would get points too. It was obvious that Dumbledore knew what had happened through the year on the third floor.

 

*At last there was silence again. 

“Second — to Miss Hermione Granger … for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.” 

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves — they were a hundred points up. *

Again, the protestors tried to be heard over the noise. Dumbledore raised his hands for silence again.

*“Third — to Mr. Harry Potter …” said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. “… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points.” *

Well there really wasn’t much the protestors couldn’t say to that, they didn’t face Voldemort. The traps weren’t hard enough to be considered courageous. 

*The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points — exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the House Cup — if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point. 

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent. “There are all kinds of courage,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.” 

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table.* Not to mention all the protesting voices trying to be heard.

*Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn’t have looked more stunned and horrified if he’d just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him. 

“Which means,” Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even* some of *Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, “we need a little change of decoration.”*

“Wait! I protest,” a seventh year Ravenclaw boy said. Dumbledore looked at him in confusion, why would anyone protest?

“You don’t think these brave children deserve the points for the reason I’ve laid them out?” Dumbledore asked. 

“No,” the teen said shaking his head, “I think they deserve them, but what about everyone else that went through the traps? I mean it wasn’t the first time a student completed your course. We just thought that you were going to award those that went through at the end of the term. Like you are doing for them now,” he said pointing the four Gryffindors. “I mean you can’t honestly think they were the only ones. So what about our points?”

Dumbledore’s twinkle diminished a bit, however Filius Flitwick agreed completely. It wasn’t fair that Dumbledore was showing such favoritism. 

“I concur,” Professor Flitwick said, standing on his chair to be seen. “If you are going to reward these four for breaking the rules, you need to reward everyone that went through the traps.” 

“Yes, exactly,” Pomona Sprout said, also standing. She too was getting tired of the preferentialism that Snape and Dumbledore constantly flaunted about the school. “While I don’t condone breaking rules, I agree that if you are going to give points for it, it needs to be across the board.”

Even Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape agreed, especially Snape, as he had always thought that Harry Potter was a spoiled brat that should be expelled for blatantly breaking the rules and not rewarded for it with points. 

Dumbledore, seeing he was out voted, sighed. “Very well. We shall take a vote and everyone who did what these four did will be awarded the same number of points.” 

 

The Gryffindors shouted to heard over the cheers from the other tables. They had won so why should others protest? At least it wasn’t Slytherin winning the cup! The other houses should be happy about that.

Flitwick raised his hands for silence. “We’ll start with my house. Raise your hands as I go through each trap and tell us if you passed it. First trap was the Cerberus; raise your hand if you passed this creature, then explain how you got passed and you will be awarded the same number of points as the four Gryffindors.”

Five students raised their hands, and Flitwick pointed to the seventh year that had made the loudest protest. “You, Mr. Stewart, how did you get past the dog?” 

The student looked secure now that he knew that he wouldn’t be in trouble. “As a Muggle-born, anyone who studied literature will, and I quote * ‘in the Aeneid Cerberus was lulled to sleep after being tricked into eating drugged honeycakes and Orpheus put the creature to sleep with his music.’* I played a flute and lulled the dog to sleep,” he said proudly.

Flitwick decided that they would be there all day if he asked each individual, so he said to the remaining four students, “Raise your hand if you used music.” Three of the remaining students raised their hands. “Very well. Since Mr. Weasley obtained fifty points for passing the chess set, then Ravenclaw will be awarded 250 points for getting past the Cerberus.” 

Each professor asked and counted their tables and the tally was thus: Ravenclaw was awarded 250 points, Hufflepuff was awarded 100, Slytherin was awarded 200, and Gryffindor was awarded 150, but the trio didn’t count because Fluffy was already asleep.

Professor Sprout took the next trap, as it was hers, “Now, students at my table, raise your hand if you got past the Devil’s Snare.” Two students raised their hands. “Ms. Jarvis, please tell us how you completed this.”

The fifth year female student looked a little nervous. “Well, it was easy, wasn’t it? I mean, we learned how to get past that plant in first year. Just make a little fire and the plant shrinks back and lets you through—or you just relax and it won’t do anything, will it? I made a little fire and fell right through.” The other student in Hufflepuff nodded that he had done the same.

Sprout looked proud of the students; it showed they paid attention in her class. She had protested to Dumbledore that that particular plant was too easy to protect anything, but he hadn’t listened. “Very good. Now let’s see… since we are awarding fifty points to get past the traps, that will be one-hundred points to Hufflepuff. Now, the other tables, raise your hand if you used fire.” 

In the end, Slytherin had four students that had used fire and none them had relaxed, Ravenclaw had three for fire and two relaxed, Gryffindor had two for fire, plus Hermione, but she had already received fifty points for keeping a cool head, so it added up to three for fire and one relaxed. This made the points thus: Slytherin 200, Ravenclaw 250, Gryffindor 200, and Hufflepuff 100.

Flitwick took over, “Now, who got past the keys? We don’t need to know how as there was only one way past.” 

The same students raised their hands, plus Harry after being prodded by Hermione. So the same amount of points were added.

McGonagall looked to her table with a frown. While she approved fair play, she did not approve of breaking rules. “Well, let’s have it. Who got past the chess set?” Three students raised their hands. She pursed her lips noticing that both Weasley twin had their hands raised. “Explain to me, Mr. George Weasley, how it is that only one of you has raised your hands for each trap, but both of you are raising your hands now.”

“Well, Professor, Fred is the one who knew how to make the dog sleep, but I got us pass the plant, and I was the one who chased the key, but we both were needed to play the chess game. If you’ve ever played our brother, Ron, you would know that the only way you can beat him is by teaming up. So we’ve had plenty of practice on that one,” George said with a bright smile, he was just happy that they were being recognized for breaking the rules for once.

“Very well. As much as it pains me to do this, 200 points to Gryffindor.” 

Again, the totals were added, and Ravenclaw received 250 for the same five students, Slytherin received 150, Hufflepuff received 100, and Gryffindor received their 200 for the same three students, plus Fred. 

This time Dumbledore asked, “Who defeated the troll and how?” This was not the way he wanted to end the year. He wanted Harry to feel the brunt of the awards; He knew that others had defeated the traps, but he didn’t think anyone would have stood up to him. His word here was law, after all. The only reason he conceded to this was because he didn’t want a future politician to think he was playing favoritism. He would need them to be on his side if the war came. “Slytherin, let us hear from you. Mr. Flint, how did you defeat the troll?” He had picked the boy in hopes of deducting points for dark magic.

Marcus Flint stood straight and said, “Well, Sir, trolls are afraid of fire. I simply conjured a torch and held it if front of me, then passed right on by it with no problem.” Groans sounded from the student that hadn’t gotten past the troll for not thinking of something so easy.

The scores then were then thus: the five same Ravenclaws received 250 points, only the male Hufflepuff passed the troll, so Hufflepuff received fifty, and the same three Slytherins received 150 point, and only the Weasley twins passed the troll, so the two Gryffindors received 100 points. The trio received no points because the troll was already knocked out.

Now came the final puzzle. Snape stood and sneered at the students. If this went true to form, he would have to give points to students not in his house. It almost hurt, but if he did not, he would be set upon by the rest of the staff, and he wanted to avoid that. “Not that I think many of you dunderheads could, but raise your hands if you got past the potions puzzle. I really don’t care how you did it. I’m sure that, if you did, you cheated. However, it remains that points must be given,” he said dismissively, sneer still firm on his face.

The tally then was thus: give Ravenclaws received 250 points, one Hufflepuff received fifty points, two Slytherins received 100 points, two Gryffindors received 100 points, plus Hermione, who added an additional fifty points. 

Ravenclaw raised the roof; They had been keeping a tally and, finally, after so many years of repression from the blatant favoritism of Snape and Dumbledore, they were going to get the cup. Sprout held up her hands, though she felt it really wouldn’t matter. She wanted these last points to be awarded anyway. “Now, now, I know you’re happy, Ravenclaw, but there is one more set of points to be delivered.” Everyone settled down, a bit confused. What points could she be talking about? “Everyone who stood up to their friends trying to prevent them from going on this fool’s quest, please raise your hands.” 

Many students looked reluctant to be participating in this show, but the students that did were awarded points. The total was thus: six Ravenclaws received a total of sixty points, ten Hufflepuffs received a total of 100 points, two Slytherins received a total of twenty points, no Gryffindors, other than Neville, had stood up to their friends, but Neville had already received his points, so Gryffindor was not awarded any points.

Dumbledore got to his feet and raised his hands for silence. “Well done, Ravenclaw. Now, as you can see by the counters, the points are thus: in fourth place: Hufflepuff with 802; in third place, we have Slytherin, with 1342 points; second place goes to Gryffindor, with 1532 points, and, of course, first place goes to Ravenclaw, with 1986 points. Well done, Ravenclaw.” He clapped his hands and waited for the cheering to end. “I would like to say that, in the future, points will not be awarded for breaking the rules. However, I understand why it had to be done today. I believe this has been the greatest number points awarded to the houses in one sitting in over a century. Well done, all of you. Now for the change of colors.” He raised his hands, and the banners changed to blue and bronze with the symbol of an eagle depicted on them.

Clapping and cheering were happening at all of the tables; Gryffindor was clapping because Slytherin didn’t win, and Slytherin was clapping because Gryffindor had lost; Hufflepuff was cheering because of the fair play, and Ravenclaw was cheering because they had won.

 

Most of the students left that year feeling good about themselves and were pleased by the way the end had turned out. 

 

Hphphp

AN: I find it very weird that The Golden Trio were the only ones to go through the traps in Harry’s first year. You can’t tell a school full of children and teens not to go somewhere and expect them to listen. Many fanfics point this out but none truly follow up on it, well maybe two that I read but for the most part it is just mentioned and then forgotten. I also find it odd that none of the other students protested that the trio got points for. I am pretty sure that the Weasley twins made it through the traps. I am also pretty sure that the stone was not placed in the mirror until the end of the year. Not to mention Neville received points for standing up to his friends. I’ll bet that happened in all houses when it came to those traps.

Now my math sucks, even when I use a calculator, so if I messed up feel free to point that out.


	6. Fighting Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Harry read the Daily Prophet all the way through after his fourth year and didn’t like what he read and fought back by taking a page out of muggle history books on propaganda.

AN: Thanks to my lovely betas, LadyLini and SilverDawn249, for all their help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all their help in my learning to do it on my own. all mistakes are still my own. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. 

 

hphphp

It was a month into the summer after his fourth year and Harry Potter sat alone in his bedroom in Number 4 Privet Drive, the most recent copy of the Daily Prophet open on his lap. As he read he frowned, a gnawing sense of anger slowly growing inside him. Through small, snide comments, the Ministry was denying Voldemort had ever returned, calling both him and Dumbledore senile for suggesting so.

 

This couldn't go unpunished.

 

He knew that he'd have no voice in the newspapers; the Ministry hated him. So he would need a plan of attack. A fleeting memory of a primary school history class dredged itself from the back of his mind. Something to do with the use of propaganda during the Muggles' Second World War.

 

Thinking quickly, he called on Dobby and without a moment's hesitation the elf appeared, a broad grin stretching across his face. "Hey Dobby," Harry said quietly, conscious of his aunt and uncle downstairs. "I was wondering if I could hire you and maybe a few other free house elves for the summer, maybe longer if things work out?"

"Dobby would love to work for the Great Harry Potter! What can Dobby be doing for you?" The elf said quietly in his squeaky voice, excited that his greatest hero called for him.

"Well," Harry mused, wondering where to begin. "We need to talk about how much I'll be paying you. And I wanted to know if Winky might do some work for me as well. My idea will definitely need more than one elf. So if you know any more free elves that need work, call them and I'll see about hiring them as well." Harry told the overjoyed little elf. 

“Dobby can be doing that Harry Potter. Dobby will be doing that right now,” Dobby said and, with that, he popped away. 

Harry lay down on his bed and waited patiently, running his mind over what he was going to do. Suddenly, there was a loud pop and twenty or so house-elves appeared in his room. They varied in health, some almost fainting with exhaustion while others were dressed in bright clothes and practically vibrating with excitement, just like Dobby. "Why do some of you look close to death?" Harry asked as he looked at the motley crew of elves, slightly shocked that there were so many of them.

One of the really poor elves replied, “We is not finding a wizard or witch that will take us. If we are not around magic, our magic fades. We is not needing to be bound but we must be around magic to survive.”

“Well, I can help you there. I need help this summer, so I want to pay all of you two galleons a weeks for the next two months. If what I’m about to do works, I’m going to try and find you families that will take on free elves and pay you to work for them. Is this agreeable?” Harry asked. 

All the elves nodded as they figured that this was better than fading away. 

“Great. Now here is what I need you to do,” Harry said. 

Two weeks later, all over the wizarding Britain, thousands of pieces of paper were flying around. No one knew where they came from—they had just dropped from the sky. 

The paper read: 

Harry Potter speaks out:

People of the wizarding Britain, if you wish to unpick the lies of our world then listen very closely to what I have to say. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks researching as my spies listen in on many Ministry conversations as well as brief chatter around Diagon Alley. This is what I've learnt:

Muggle-born wizards: You are being lied to. There is no future for you in the wizarding world. All high paying positions are held by pure-bloods and well-off half-bloods. Anyone raised in the Muggle World will get low paying jobs or completely shunned, and there is nothing we can do about it. 

 

I say forget them and leave this world to the pure-blood bigots. Eventually, there will be no one to marry and they’ll die out. Then we can come and claim the world back, if we want, or we can stay in the Muggle World and make our own way and leave them to their fate.

Also there really is no such thing as a Muggle-born; all so called "Muggle-borns" are descendants from squibs. The Gringotts Bank is more than just a bank, it is a storage area. If a line is thought to be dead the vault will close and the money will go to the Ministry. However, if there is an heir (even if that heir is a squib) then the vault will stay open and the Ministry cannot touch it. I asked Gringotts and they informed me that there are hundreds of old untouched vaults. 

So go to Gringotts, and for five galleons, they’ll test to see if you qualify for one of these vaults. Remember there may be books and valuables that have not seen the light of day for hundreds of years. If you take these the pure-bloods and the wizarding Britain, that only want your money, will lose and you will gain.

This year, I won’t be returning to Hogwarts. I’ll be going to night-school and getting my Muggle studies up to date so I can support myself when I’m of age. I’ll also be hiring tutors to keep up my magical education. To do this I’ll have to go into hiding because I know that the Ministry will try to pass laws to prevent me from leaving so I suggest you do the same.

If you want to continue your magic studies, there is a law firm in the Muggle World that will get you tutors. They’ll confirm that you are a so call Muggle-born first, so be warned. They also have a list of house-elves that require a good home to be hired in. These elves don’t want to be bound, but hired and you will have to sign a contract that states you won’t bind with or abuse them. If you contact me, via Muggle mail, then I’ll give you their name. 

To the wizard Britain, I say piss off; clean up your own mess. I’ve sent a letter to the Prime Minister and let him know that there is a wizard terrorist that will try and kill the subjects of Great Britain. And, wonder of wonders, he believed me and has alerted the Army. They’ll kill anyone they see terrorizing their people.

Well, I’ve told you what I'm doing, I leave it up to you to do what you want because I wash my hands of the lot of you.

Oh, and for all you people that listen to the Daily Prophet and Minister Fudge, well, you made your own bed, you can lie in it.

Every Muggle-born in Britain received one of these fliers, including Hermione Granger, and Gringotts was flooded with witches and wizards for the next week or so. The Wizengamot tried to stop them, but to no avail. Gringotts found hundreds of Muggle-borns claiming vaults, then saw those same vaults promptly transferred to the Muggle World, some outside of Britain.

Hogwarts saw a drop of students by half. They had to raise the fees just to keep the doors open, but it didn't look like it would improve in the future. Every time a Muggle-born showed signs of accidental magic, they got a pamphlet letting them know what they could expect if they accepted the propaganda from the Ministry of Magic. Parents were told the laws and left a list of tutors that they could hire for their children. They were then shown how to get to Gringotts and how to ask for a heritage test. More money left the wizarding Britain.

After Harry's little flier, most the Muggle-borns that immigrated to the Muggle World prospered. They held jobs, practiced magic in the privacy of their own homes, and never looked back. Many opened shops that had both a Muggle side and a wizard side. So, if one side held a nursery, the other side held potion ingredients. 

One of the first things they were taught was how to shield their homes and businesses from wizards and witches that held ill intent. This meant that anyone wanting for them to return to the wizarding Britain so they could get ahold of their money couldn’t find them. And those who wanted to hurt them or their family would be drained of their magic and left a squib. No one felt sorry for them.

Harry easily remembered how excited he'd been when he first heard that he was a wizard and how disappointed he had been after his first week at Hogwarts. If he had known he could hire tutors then, he would have left years ago. He learned more from his tutors than he ever had at Hogwarts. And since the Muggle-borns were staying in the Muggle Britain, there were more than enough tutors to keep the Statute of Secrecy. It helped that every Muggle-born family that had hired a tutor had a spell put on them that wouldn’t allow them to talk about magic outside of their family or house. They were, of course, asked first, and, if they did not agree, they had the option to go to Hogwarts or have the child's magic bound and their memories erased. They were never bothered again. Most chose the tutors.

Harry kept in touch with many of his classmates, mostly through Muggle mail and phone calls. When computers became a household item, they started a web-page for wizards and witches, shielded so only they could find and use it. There were chat-rooms, lessons and games to improve their logic and create a firm grasp on how to use magic wisely. There were pages for the new Muggle-born and raised that had tales of what the elder ones, who had fled the wizarding Britain, had put up with. The most popular, of course, were Harry's stories, much to his displeasure, but he shrugged it off. If it helped others, he would bear it.

Hedwig remained a good friend and pet, but she never carried another letter again.

The free elves flourished under the magic of the Muggle-born households and bred often. Their children were free, trained, and hired out. Dobby and Winky stayed with Harry at his flat and were proud parents of two elves that stayed with the Potter family for many years.

Voldemort was eventually killed by a Muggle bullet. The Prime Minister hired the goblins to find and destroy all the horcruxes. It was after Harry hired the goblins to take the one out of his scar and one too many dreams shared with Voldemort that they learned what they were and how they were made. It was easy to take this to the Prime Minister and work out a plan. The goblins were more than happy to come to Harry's flat and preform the ritual (for a fee, of course). They were told of the one in Bellatrix's vault. Harry had learned about it from Voldemort's mind, and they dealt with it and charged her vault the removal fee.

Because Harry didn’t return to Hogwarts, he never dated Ginny and instead married a Muggle-born from France, with whom he had three children that never entered the wizarding Britain. Sirius ran away from 12 Grimmauld Place when he heard that Harry had left. He pleaded his case to the Muggle courts and was found innocent. He too took his money to the Muggle World and never looked back, keeping in touch only with Remus.

Remus stayed with the werewolves to see if they could prosper from the fall of the wizarding government. After many years, they learned that they too would be better off governing themselves and created small communities for all half-breeds through uying the lands that wizards had had to sell off due to the declining economy. The goblins even set up a bank for them so that they never had to venture into the world that had persecuted them.

Dumbledore carried out his plans without Harry, and when he fell to his own plots, not many mourned him. Snape was found to be a spy and was murdered by Voldemort. Ron and his parents never left the wizarding Britain. They had listened to Dumbledore and felt Harry was a coward to leave them to Voldemort. The twins, Ginny, and two older boys pooled their money together and escaped to the Muggle World. They went to night school, got a Muggle education, made their own living, and never looked back. Charlie became a game-keeper on safari tours. Bill worked for the werewolf bank. Ginny worked in one of the many shops open to wizards. The twins had to change their jokes so they could open two-sided shop, but it worked out better than it would if they had stayed.

Hermione also thrived in the Muggle World. She had always been the smartest of Harry's friends and had no problem keeping up with both types of studies. She opened a bookstore with two sides, like so many wizarding stores in Muggle-Britain, catering to everyone. She eventually married Victor Krum, who retired from the fast paced life of Quidditch and settled, happily married, in the quiet refuge of the Muggle World. With his wife at his side, he learned to adapt quickly.

Twenty years later, Harry Potter visited Diagon Alley to see what had happened to the wizarding Britain after he had left. He was shocked to see there were fewer than fifty wizards and witches in the Alley, and most of the stores were closed due to lack of business. He knew they couldn’t have bred themselves out in such a short period of time. So they must have run away to another country. Only the die-hard pure-bloods would have stayed. He wondered if he should feel bad about this. But, really, they had asked for it themselves. If they had changed their ways and allowed the Muggle-born and raised to hold positions in the Ministry, they wouldn’t have fallen to this.

Harry shook his head and left Diagon Alley for the last time.


	7. Wait that isn't right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logic is not part of the Wizarding World and Harry wakes up one morning and realizes this. What will the wizarding world do when Harry makes a vow promoting the truth?

AN: Thanks to my lovely beta, LadyLini, for all her help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all her help in my learning to do it on my own. All mistakes are still my own. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. 

hphphp

It was the middle of Harry’s fifth year that he realized something. He woke up one morning after a detention with Umbridge and had a thought. Wait—being tortured by a professor isn’t right. Neither is being ridiculed by the papers. Logically speaking, Harry should be able to tell the papers his side of the story. Logically speaking, Harry should be able to tell his Head of House and his Headmaster what is going on with Umbridge, and they should have stopped this. But he was told to keep his head down and not cause trouble. That wasn’t right; the school should be supporting its students when there was evidence that something was wrong. And the words carved into his hand were such evidence. 

His lessons with Snape were just as bad, if not worse; they weren’t working, so that wasn’t right either. When he complained to Snape that he didn’t know what he was talking about, he was told that he just wasn’t trying hard enough. What was happening with these Occlumency lessons was akin to mind rape and nothing more. Snape wasn’t teaching him a damn thing. And now he was dreaming more and more about Voldemort instead of blocking him out like these lessons were supposed to be doing. He would go to Dumbledore, but the Headmaster wouldn’t even be in the same room with him, and that wasn’t right either, because now he had no one to turn to.

It really wasn’t right how he was being treated here and in the general Wizarding World. Now, all he needed to do was come up with a plan to show the school what he had been saying was the truth. 

Harry snuck down into the kitchens to talk to Dobby. He tickled the pear and entered the kitchen area. Immediately, there were several house elves in front of him asking what they could do for him. “I was wondering if Dobby was here, and I would like to talk to the head elf. I’d like to ask a few questions,” Harry said. 

“Dobby is being here, Harry Potter, sir. What can Dobby be doing for the Great Harry Potter?” Dobby asked. 

“Dobby. I was wondering if you are still a free house elf. I also wanted to ask the head elf if they are bound to the Headmaster or the school,” Harry stated.

“Dobby is still being a free elf, sir,” the excitable house elf said.

“Misty is being the head elf and we is being bound to the school, Harry Potter sir,” an old female elf said. 

“Great. I need a few things, and it’ll probably benefit the school in the long run. So I was wondering if you could help me. Dobby, I was wondering if you wanted to work for me when I leave the school. I can pay you what you are making here or I can pay you more. It depends on what you want,” Harry said to the two elves in front of him. If he wanted to be heard, he needed to have the elves help. What he wanted was out of his power to do, and he knew the elves had far more power than people gave them credit for.

“As long as it is not hurting the students we can be doing anything you is asking,” Misty said, wringing her hands together. She was bound to protect the students after all. 

“Dobby would be very happy to be working for Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is not asking for any more than Dobby is making now,” said the excitable elf. 

Harry looked around and saw that there were more than enough house elves to do what needed to be done. “All right. I need to know if you can freeze and hold the professors and students without hurting them long enough for me to say what I need to say. I promise that this will not hurt anyone. When I’m done and have left the castle, you can release them. Dobby, I want you to pack all my things and move them to my aunt’s house. I’ll join you as soon as I can.” 

“We can be doing that, Harry Potter, sir. I is warning you though, if yous hurt anyone, we will be protecting them.” Misty wagged her finger at Harry sternly. 

“Dobby will be doing that right away, Harry Potter, sir. I will be waiting for Harry Potter to tell Dobby when he is wanting all his things to be moved,” Dobby replied, more than happy to finally be working for his hero. 

“I promise, I just want to talk. Dobby, you are a very good friend, and I think we’ll work well together,” Harry said. With that, they started planning

HPHPHPHP

After dinner the next day, the professors and students alike found themselves unable to move or talk. All except Harry Potter. 

Harry made his way to the front of the hall, cast a Sonorus, and started talking. “You all know who I am. What you may or may not know is what I have done. I know that rumors fly through these halls faster that Peeves. I also know most of them are false. I’m tired of being a hero one day and an attention seeking brat the next. I want to point out a few truths to you people and you can make up your minds from them. First, I, Harry James Potter, do swear on my magic and my life that what I’m about to say is the truth. I hold this vow for the next twenty minutes. So mote it be. 

“Most of you were raised on the books that were sold about me growing up in a castle and fighting dragons and such at the age of three. I’d like to inform you that those of you that believed that are complete idiots. You were also raised to believe that I defeated Voldemort at the age of fifteen months. Again, if you believe that, you are idiots. All I remember, thanks to the Dementors, is my dad telling my mom to take me and run. Then my mom begging for my life and for Voldemort to take hers instead. There was a flash of green light and a laugh, then it was all black. I don’t remember much after that. 

“I was taken to my mother’s sister’s house and was raised basically as a house elf. I even spent ten years living in a cupboard under the stairs. My Hogwarts letter was addressed there. I was moved to the smallest bedroom after that. I was locked up, starved, and made to do chores that no one should have to do in one day. So that was my life growing up. Lumos, Nox. 

“Now here is quick rundown of the last five years in this school. In my first year, there was a troll in the castle on Halloween. A friend of mine and I went to find a girl since she didn’t know about the troll. We didn’t intend to fight it. All we wanted to do was get the girl and go back to the common room. We did wind up fighting it, and it was my friend that finally knocked it out. And for some reason only I was given credit. My question is, where were the professors? They showed up pretty quick after the troll was knocked out.

“And then there was the philosophers' stone, hidden in this school behind not-so-hard traps. Three first years went through these traps with little to no problem. I was alone after the last trap and found Quirrell, with Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head. We argued, and my hands burned and probably killed him. Why? Well Dumbledore says it was the protection of my mother that gave me the ability to do that. I don’t know for sure, so I cannot say that this is true. I woke up in the hospital wing days later, after Voldemort’s disembodied form rammed through me. I asked Dumbledore why Voldemort wanted me dead and was told I was too young to know. Let’s not forget that the professors sent four first years into the Forbidden Forest to find something that can kill a unicorn. If it had not been for the centaurs, I would have died then too. That makes it three times I almost died. 

“I’d also like to point out the unfair points given at the end of that year. Slytherin should have won the cup, but the Headmaster showed his bias to all the students and put the limelight on those of us that broke the rules. I had nothing to do with that, and I didn’t want the attention that followed. So ended my first year. 

“Second year, one the students here was possessed by a dark object created by Voldemort. They released the Basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets. I was shunned and tormented for most of that year, called the Heir of Slytherin because I’m a parseltounge. I didn’t even know what that meant. None of the professors stopped the shunning, and I have to wonder why? It was not me. Lumos. Nox. As you can see, I’m still standing and have not lost my magic. A student found out what the creature was. Me and another student along with Lockhart, went into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue the possessed student. Due to a cave in, I had to go alone. I found a sort of ghost of a younger Voldemort draining the student’s soul and trying to come back to life. This ghost told me his name was Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr., and that if you change the letters around, it becomes the sentence ‘I am Lord Voldemort’. He told me that he was a half-blood born from a Muggle father and a squib mother. 

“He released the Basilisk on me and had full control of it. My parseltounge didn’t help at all. It was with the help of Fawkes, the sorting hat, and Godric Gryffindor’s sword that I fought it and won. I stabbed the dark object with the tooth that had been embedded in my arm, and the ghost disappeared. Fawkes cried in my wound, so I lived. We left the Chamber of Secrets, and I told my story to the Headmaster. I tell you this to point out that I, once again, almost died, and you people turned on me without any proof that I had done anything wrong. I also want to point out that I have a Muggle-born student as my best friend, so me being the Heir of Slytherin made absolutely no sense. So ended my second year. 

“Third year, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban. Dementors were placed around the school. I almost got kissed three times. One of the students in this school had a pet that was an animagus. The animagus had been living with this student’s family for over ten years. His name was Peter Pettigrew. Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, myself, two other students, and a teacher all found ourselves in the Shrieking Shack one way or another. I heard Peter Pettigrew confess to selling out my parents, framing Sirius, and hiding with this student’s family. That night was a full moon and, as all of you know, Professor Lupin is a werewolf, and in his hurry to protect me and my friends, he had not taken his wolfsbane potion. If it had not been for the professor that was with us, we would’ve died. Pettigrew escaped in the confusion. When I told the Minister what had happened, he told me we were Confounded by Black. Me and another student with magical aid, helped Sirius to escape. This year, I was a hero that needed to be protected and, again, I almost died. So ended year three

“Year four, the Tri-Wizarding Tournament—what a nightmare. I didn’t enter my name. Lumos. Nox. I didn’t want to be in the Tournament. Lumos. Nox. I was entered by a Death Eater posing as one of our professors. This professor was told by Voldemort to make sure that I won the tournament so that I could take the cup. Cedric and I both took the cup at the same time, and it port-keyed us to a graveyard. Peter Pettigrew, on the orders of Voldemort, killed Cedric. I still have nightmares where I hear him say, ‘kill the spare’. I watch Cedric die for no reason other than he was there, and Voldemort didn’t need him. After Cedric died, I was stunned and tied to a headstone. I was used in a ritual that brought Voldemort back. He called his Death Eaters to him—I saw them—and he called them by name and ridiculed them for not believing he would come back. The ones that I saw were Malfoy Sr., Goyle Sr., Crabbe Sr., Nott Sr. and McNair. 

“He had them release me, give me my wand, and we fought. Our wands connected and the spirits that Voldemort killed started coming out of his wand and gave me encouragement to win. Cedric’s spirit asked me to return his body to his parents. With the help of these spirits, I got the chance to get to the port key and Cedric’s body and returned to Hogwarts. I was confronted by the Death Eater and was saved by the staff. Once again, I told my story to the Minister, including who I saw with Voldemort, and was again told I was lying. This year, you turned on me again and didn’t believe me when I said that I didn’t enter myself. Again, I almost died four times. So ended my fourth year. 

“Now, it’s my fifth year. So far, I have been tortured by one professor, mind raped by another, vilified in the paper, and ridiculed by my fellow students again. I was also set upon by Dementors this past summer. For this, I had to go to trial to keep from being expelled for protecting myself and my cousin. When I went to a professor to explain what was happening in my detention and how it was given to me unfairly, I was told to ‘keep my head down and not cause trouble’. I couldn’t talk to the Headmaster because every time I tried, he left the room and would not even look at me. I don’t have a guardian that can come and get me, so I’m stuck at this school with no support and no help. 

“So I ask you, why the hell should I stay and help you fight a war that you don’t believe is a happening? Oh, it looks like my twenty minutes are up. Lumos. Nox. I can still do magic, and I’m still alive. So, I say to all of you that have not believed me: piss off. I’m leaving, and when you discover what that all I’ve said is true and try and make me your hero again, I say: too bad. You should have thought of that while you were treating me so poorly.

“Now that my vow is over, I want to point out a few home truths to you people. One: pure-bloods make up one quarter of the population of the Wizarding World. Half-bloods are half that population. That leaves Muggle-borns as the last quarter. So, to all you pure-bloods: you are outnumbered. The only reason you stay on top of the food chain is because of the bigoted Ministry. You are nothing special. You are the same as everyone else in this room. 

“A few more things. Then, I’m done. There are around 5.7 billion muggles worldwide and only around a couple million magicals. That is roughly a 4000 to 1 ratio. So, you Death Eater wannabes might want to remember that. 

“The muggles have walked on the moon. They are also exploring space to see if they can understand the planets up there. All magicals do is look at space through our telescopes. We have never even broken the atmosphere. I’m not even sure that most magicals know what an atmosphere is. 

“Muggles have communication devices that they can carry and talk to anyone in the world with just a few pushes of the buttons. Right now, these are new, but I hear that they are getting better and cheaper soon everyone will have one. Magicals are still using the floo, which you can’t use on the street. There are some magical devices that can be used like the phones, but I hear that most magicals won’t use them because they aren’t traditional.”

“I’ve even heard that they have a system that will soon be in most homes and at the touch of their fingertips they can find out anything in the world. Meaning if they want to know about China, all they have to do is look in this ‘computer’ and type a few words. Then, many pages of information will show them everything they want to know about China. Magicals have nothing like that. You don’t even have a spell that can search the libraries to find the book you need. How soon until a fed up Muggle-born makes an entry in these computers and lets the whole world know about magicals?

“There will soon be cameras on almost every corner of the streets in Britain that will film everything that happens on those streets twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Someone will always be watching and reporting anything that looks like a crime. If they see a magical cast a spell on someone, they will report it to the police and they will have a recording that it happened. You can’t Obliviate a recording. I've also heard that the phones that they carry will soon have cameras on them that can record and those recordings can then be downloaded on to the computers for the whole world to see. How soon will it be until the Wizarding World in all its wisdom will be recorded and exposed just because of the false belief that muggles are stupid and lower than magicals?

“I also wanted to let you know that muggles have weapons that can wipe out thousands of people at a time. Whole cities—gone with the push of a button. There isn’t spell that will stop that. These weapons release gas and fire that will kill anyone who breathes the gas or is near the fire. There is no shield that will stop it, no medicine that will cure it. You people have no clue to what you could be fighting if the muggles think you’re a threat. Don’t believe me? Ask a Muggle-born. 

“The muggles also have what they call satellites that are in space and can see the whole earth. They can focus on people from the sky. And unless you find a way to block your hidden areas, you will be seen. If they see you as a threat, you will be destroyed. Don’t believe me? Get off your lazy asses, go to a Muggle library, and see for yourselves. 

“I’m leaving now. I wish you all the best. You’ll all be released after I have left Hogwarts.” 

With that, Harry Potter walked out of the Great Hall and left Hogwarts. He made his way to Diagon Alley via the Knight Bus. He went to Gringotts and hired the goblins to put wards on his relatives’ house to keep away all wizards and wizarding mail. He then closed his account and took his money to the Muggle World. He returned to his relatives’ house and made an agreement to pay them rent it they left him alone. He had hired Dobby to bring him meals, so he let his relatives know that he would not be using their food anymore. 

A few weeks after he left, he made his way to St. Mungo's Hospital because of the pain in his scar. His nightmares were getting out of control. He kept seeing Voldemort torturing his followers because they couldn’t find Harry. He wanted it to stop. The hospital workers found the soul piece and called in the Department of Mystery to remove it. The Ministry curse breakers identified the horcrux, removed it, and placed it in another container to find out if there were more. 

Harry was going to night school to bring him up to date on his Muggle studies. He had already purchased the books he needed to further his study on magic. He was thinking about getting a tutor. 

About a month later, Sirius Black called him on the telephone (Hermione showed him how) and asked to meet. They meet in a café in downtown London.

“Hey, pup, how have you been?” Sirius asked, giving Harry a hug. Sirius looked much better than the last time Harry had seen him. 

“I’m good, Sirius. Is it safe for you to be here?” a concerned Harry asked. He might have left the Wizarding World, but he still cared about his friends and a few others. 

“I am a free man—it happened just yesterday. It was your speech in the Great Hall that did it. A lot of the students wrote home that night, and the world turned on its head. Though you didn’t name names, a lot of students figured out who you were talking about. The Department Magical Law Enforcment came and took statements from the students and staff alike. Fudge and Umbridge are in Azkaban. Dumbledore is on probation. If he puts anymore students in harm’s way, he will be ousted as Headmaster. Snape was fired and taken in for questioning. He might get off; who knows? 

“The Board of Governors went through the school like a dose of salt. Binns was exorcised. Filtch was fired. Because he never graduated, Hagrid was demoted from a professor, back to grounds keeper. Muggle Studies was completely overhauled, and a half-blood it teaching it now. They even brought in a curse-breaker to see if they could remove the curse on the DADA class. The school was closed for a month to find new professors. All the wards were updated to keep Dark objects out of the school. All because you made a vow in front of the students and staff. What you told them scared the hell out of the Governors. They really thought that the muggles were lowly creatures, even though Muggle-borns have been telling them for years that the Muggle studies were completely behind the times by about fifty years.

“Now the real question is—do you want to go back?” Sirius asked with a serious look. He had already made up his mind to stand by Harry, no matter what the boy decided. He had seen the memory of Harry’s speech in a pensieve and had been moved by all that had happened to his Godson. He was ashamed that he had not been there for Harry when he had needed him the most. But he vowed to himself he would be there from now on.

Harry thought about it. He knew he was safe at the Dursleys. He knew that he wanted to get his Muggle schooling done. But he also knew that if he went back, they would treat him the same way as before, and he felt that he had a better chance at getting a career in the Muggle World. If he went back to the Wizarding World, he would never find peace, so long as Voldemort was still terrifying everyone. Everyone would want him just for his name, and he wouldn’t know if he was actually good at any job he got. “Can I just stay here and hire tutors? I mean you have to realize I have been through hell in the Wizarding World—almost worse than with my relatives—and I just know that if I go back, it will be the same. Love me, then hate me. I shouldn’t have to put up with that, no matter how famous I’m supposed to be.”

Sirius gave him a deep look. “You’re right, pup, you shouldn’t have to put up with that. Now, Dumbledore sent me here to drag you back. But…” he paused, holding up his hands to stop the protest, “if your relatives will put up with me, I want to see if I can stay with you for a little while. I want to make sure that you are being treated right and whether or not I can help you in any way. I want to be there for you. If I go back to Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore will try and find a way to keep me there even though I’m a free man now. He still feels that he has to be in control of everyone and will not listen to opinions that aren’t the same as his, though he does seem to be paying more attention to the school since the Board of Governors put him on probation.

“If your relatives don’t want me around, how about you, me, Remus, and any of your friends that want to join us leave this country and let them fend for themselves? They haven’t done you or me any favors, so I don’t see why we should have to stay and fight for them. I have only been waiting until I’m free, then I wanted to see what you wanted. I’ll stand by your side no matter what you want. If you want to stay, we will stay. If you want to leave, we will leave. It’s all up to you, pup.”

“Well, I kinda want to stay here. Not that I like my relatives or anything, but I have an agreement with them and pay them enough to leave me alone. You know how much they hate magic, so if you tell them that you’ll only use it in self-defense and pay them enough money, there is a guest room you can rent. I’ve hired Dobby to bring me meals and do my laundry and stuff, and I’m sure he will serve you too. You might want to ask him though, because he’s a free elf and he’ll want to be paid. Since you know very little about Muggle living, you’ll need his help. Just remember—don’t do anything to hurt or destroy anyone or anything, and you should be okay.” Harry shrugged. He was thankful that he had someone on his side. He had been rather lonely with only Hermione to talk with on the phone. He did tell Hermione that she could give his number to anyone that asked that; he knew she wouldn’t try to make him go back. If it was an adult, they had to give a vow stating that they only wanted to talk. Sirius had to make such a vow, even though he was Harry’s Godfather. 

“Okay, pup. Let’s go ask them. We can get Remus to rent something nearby, and the two of us can share. I don’t really know how to work the Muggle real estate, but he does. We will find something close so you don’t have to travel far to see us,” Sirius said as he stood and guided Harry away from the table. 

They paid the bill and went to talk to Harry’s aunt and uncle. Needless to say, they weren’t happy with a wizard wanting to stay in their house, especially one that could legally do freaky things. However, they were greedy people, so they did let Sirius rent the guest bedroom until Remus had a place for them. They did say that they weren’t putting up with him and his ‘unnaturalness’ past that. 

Sirius threatened Vernon, informing him that he had better behave or Sirius would make him disappear to a place where no one could ever find him. He proceeded to show him how by turning Dudley into a tea cup, then back again. The threat worked well, and for the time he was there, they all avoided each other. Sirius and Remus rented a house a few blocks away and stayed there until Harry graduated from his Muggle schooling. They waited until Harry turned seventeen, then tutored him on the practical side of magic, since Harry could do the theoretical side without getting in trouble with the Ministry. 

 

HPHPHPHPHP

Dumbledore stayed on as Headmaster until he died at the age of 135. In that time, the school became one of the top five schools worldwide, due to the fact that Dumbledore didn’t take up his political positions again after the fall of Voldemort and dedicated himself to the school. He realized after Harry’s speech that he really had let the school down and was surprised that he still had magic left, since the vow he took when he became Headmaster stated that he would watch the school and protect all that were in it. Harry had shown how close he had come to losing his magic; the only reason he could find that he had not lost it was because of the many times he or Professor Snape (on Dumbledore’s orders) had rescued Harry, just in the nick of time. 

Dumbledore added Muggle classes (math, English, and history) for all those who wanted to keep up with their Muggle education; of course, it was open to all students. He did encourage the pure-blood students to take these classes so that they could learn more about muggles than if they took only Muggle studies, despite the fact that it had been updated. 

Ron and Hermione married and worked for the Ministry after they left Hogwarts. They kept in touch with Harry via the phone and, later, email. Hermione worked for the Department of Magical Creatures; she wanted to try and pass laws that would help all sentient creatures to have rights and privileges. 

The Department of Mysteries worked hard to find Voldemort’s horcruxes so that he could finally be killed. They found them months after Harry left. They did have a hard time negotiating with the goblins, but with the returns of many goblin-made articles, they finally got the second-to-last one in the Lestrange vault. They still needed to get the snake, though. After a month of negotiating, they later teamed up with the Muggle army and wiped out the snake, along with Voldemort. While Voldemort was dying, he drew the Dark Mark on himself to keep himself alive. All of the Death Eaters bearing the mark died with him. This reduced the pure-bloods to one-sixth of the population. 

The Wizarding World took Harry’s words to heart and started looking at how to hide themselves better from the muggles. To do this, they had to go to the Muggle World and learn just how advanced the muggles were. This, of course, shut up the wizard-raised, as these findings were posted in the paper and broadcasted on the Wizard Wireless. Soon enough, they did have a way to hide from the cameras and the heat from the satellites. They worked together with the Muggle government to find other ways of protecting themselves. The Muggle government knew of the Statue of Secrecy and knew that the Wizarding World had to stay hidden because of an age old treaty between the two governments. The Ministry of Magic created a new department to keep track of Muggle technology. It was led by Arthur Weasley.

In the end, Harry did return to the Wizarding World, after his friends begged him, telling him of all the changes and that he wouldn’t be treated as a hero anymore since he wasn’t the one that had taken down Lord Voldemort. He still worked in the Muggle World, but went to the Wizarding World to keep up with all his friends. In the end, he married his Hogwarts sweetheart, Ginny Weasley. They had a few kids and sent them to Hogwarts. 

All in all, bigotry was finally brought down, due to one fed up wizard teenager. The British Wizarding World thrived for thousands of years without another Dark Lord rising.


	8. Reclaiming the House of Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius claims his house back and stands up to Molly

AN: Thanks to my lovely beta, LadyLini, for all her help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all her help in my learning to do it on my own. all mistakes are still my own. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. 

hphphp

Sirius was sitting in the gloomy kitchen at 12 Grimmuald Place; this was his family’s house. He grew up here until he ran away when he was sixteen. His mother had blasted his name off of the family tapestry, and he was never supposed to step foot in there again. But now he was a wanted criminal that the Minister used as a scapegoat for everything that went wrong in the Wizarding World. Some of the things he was accused of doing would have been fun to do. But he hadn’t done anything other than hide since his godson and friend had rescued him two years ago. He had been minutes away from being Kissed by Dementors—then they had flown in on a hippogriff, of all things, and broke him out at the last minute. 

When Harry had seen the Dark Lord rise, Dumbledore had started up the group of freedom fights from the last time that megalomaniac had walked the earth; They were called the Order of the Phoenix. 

Sirius wasn’t really sure what the Order did. They didn’t go out and proactively take down Death Eaters. The only thing they were doing now was watching Harry and guarding the Prophecy Room in the Department of Mystery at the Ministry. How that was supposed to stop Voldemort, he didn’t know. But still, he wasn’t doing of those things either. No, he was sitting around his childhood home—moping. 

Harry was supposed to be here in a week. According to Dumbledore, he had spent enough time at Privet Drive to keep the blood wards stable for another year. Sirius knew Harry hated it at that house. He wanted to write to Harry and tell him where he was, but Dumbledore, in all his infinite wisdom, said that Harry needed time to process what had happened to him. Even so, Sirius had tried to write to him multiple times, but all his letters had been confiscated. He was beginning got get angry. 

This, he could handle. What he couldn’t handle was the way that red-haired harpy was taking over his house. He may not have liked the house, but it was still his. Mrs. Weasley had no right taking over the way she was. 

The Weasleys and Hermione had moved in once the Fidelius Charm was put in place, for their own protection. Sirius had no idea how the Grangers were taking that. They were probably in just as much danger as their daughter, yet Hermione seemed to be the only one that cared about them. 

In this old house, was a house elf named Kreacher. Sirius and Kreacher hated each other. Sirius hated that house elf almost as much as he hated Snivellus. 

Kreacher had spent many years in this house alone, and he had only gone crazier than before. Sirius had tried to get him to clean the house, but Molly informed him that she would be taking over that duty, along with her children and Hermione. Molly told Sirius that he was an unkind man to make that ‘poor old elf’ do the housework.

Sirius, on the other hand, knew that if house elves weren’t given work, their mind would snap completely. That was why the house was such a mess. He needed to do something to gain back control over his house and house elf.

He stood up abruptly from the table and made his way to the library; it was the only room in the house that no one else had access to, much to Dumbledore’s displeasure. He had just had an argument with Molly as to where Harry would be sleeping when he got here. She insisted that Harry should sleep with Ron because he needed to be around his friends. Sirius knew that Harry would be angry about the lack of communication and that he would probably want a room he could go to so he would have a place to unwind. Regulus’s room was vacant and there were plenty of rooms that no one was using. To pair up the kids was ridiculous. These were teens, after all, and they would want their space. 

Sirius strode to the back of the library, to a room that was hidden there. This room was the reason no one but a Black could come into the library unless allowed. He opened the door and went to the pedestal in the middle of the room. He hadn’t wanted to do this. He never wanted to be the Head of House, but it needed to be done. Placing his hand on the pedestal, he felt the prick that drew blood from the middle of his hand. 

“I, Sirius Orion Black, hereby claim the Head of House for the house of Black. Let it be known from this day forth all Blacks will answer to me. I hereby recall all who were cast out to be reinstated, that they will know the power of the House of Black again. Any Black that kneels to one other than the Head of House is henceforth an Oath Breaker. All rights, privileges, and monies will be claimed as forfeit. As is my right, I hereby claim the forfeit of all oath breakers. May their magic be stripped and distributed to each Black that stayed true to themselves by my own discretion. ”

He felt the magic flow in to the pedestal and start to fill him. He could feel Andromeda, Tonks, and Harry through the magic, and they were getting stronger. He knew Andromeda and Tonks would know what that meant. Poor Harry would more than likely be scared.

He wondered how Bellatrix was doing—he could feel the magic leave her, making her a squib. Would she take her own life now? He didn’t care. That crazy bitch needed to be put down like a dog. He did like the fact that all her vaults would now be his and no one could enter until he went to Gringotts and claimed them completely.

Narcissa was getting a small portion of the magic, as was Draco. Some of the more distant cousins, including the Weasleys, were getting minute increases as well.

“I hereby claim this house to be mine. To serve me as its Master. All wards will strengthen and listen only to me. All charms placed on this house are mine to command. Any with ill intent upon the House of Black will henceforth be denied access.”

The wards flared, and he knew that Snivilous would no longer be allowed in the house. Neither would the thief, Mundungus. That was too bad; Sirius actually liked him. Maybe if he could get him to take a vow to keep his sticky fingers to himself…

The Fidelius was now his and he was the secret keeper. Dumbledore would not be happy, but he didn’t care what that old man thought right now. Trying to keep Harry and him prisoner didn’t make Sirius like him all that much. He respected him and would listen to him about somethings, but he didn’t like him.

Sirius was tickled that the wards stung Molly, but didn’t evict her. She had no ill intent; she was just being her overbearing self. She would find, however, that every time she so much as told Sirius he was wrong, she would get stung again. 

“All servants of the House of Black are called to me this very minute to retake their vows of obedience, that they may be strong and serve the House of Black to their fullest.”

Kreacher popped into the room, looking as if he had fought the magic the entire way. “Blood-traitor Master calls poor old Kreacher. Kreacher is not wanting to serve this Master but Kreacher must be obeying the call of magic,” the wretched creature spoke, his nose almost touching the floor.

Sirius ignored him. “Everything I have spoken will remain until the next Black is called. So mote it be.”

Sirius then turned to the house elf groveling on the floor. “Kreacher, you have one choice. You will serve me and clean this damn house, or you will die. Your head will not go on the wall, and you will not be remembered as a devoted servant. You will die here in this room, and your body will be banished. What do you want to do?”

Kreacher was in a quandary—he lived to serve the House of Black, but he hated this man in front of him with a burning passion. He needed to complete the task set to him by Master Regulus—he was ordered to, and Kreacher did not want to disobey the last order of his loving Master. Shaking his head back and forth with indecision, he felt his mind nearly snap. He had been too long by himself and, though he wasn’t free, he had not served in years. Would he feel better doing what he was supposed to do and serve the House of Black like he had in times past? Was it possible to serve the blood-traitor? 

Five minutes passed and neither of the occupants in the room moved from their spot. The house elf’s only movement was the head shaking. Kreacher finally looked up and said, “Kreacher will serve the House of Black again. Kreacher lives to serve.”

“Then I hereby claim the house elf Kreacher to be loyal to the House of Black until the day he dies. May he live on the magic of the house he serves.” Sirius incanted.

Kreacher was renewed. Though he was still old and didn’t change much on the outside, his magic got a boost from the wards, and he felt invigorated. 

“Kreacher, you will start to clean this house. Start with the rooms that are used the most and clean a room for my godson. Regulus’s room will be best. Take all of Regulus’s things, and store them in the attic. Start taking all the dark objects and put them in a chest, then put it in my room. And I mean all the dark objects. You will not hide anything. You are my elf now, and you will obey me to the fullest,” Sirius demanded. He would have Kreacher take that damn portrait off the wall after a few of the rooms were livable again. 

“Kreacher hears and obeys.” With that, Kreacher popped out of the room

Sirius had once been a cruel man, but Azkaban had cured him of that. Years of torture and guilt did that to a man. He wondered if he could find another elf to help Kreacher. Still standing in the room of power, he started thinking on what he could do to help this war effort. Stripping Bellatrix of her magic and money was a good start, but what else could he do? He wanted Andromeda and her husband to come and stay here for protection. He would ask Tonks to give Andromeda a message with the secret so that she could come if she wanted. Narcissa could take care of herself. 

As he stood in that room, deep in though, he recalled that free house elves frequently wanted a family. So he called to the air, “Magic hear my call. The House of Black seeks any free elf that wants a family to serve. Come to my voice, and let me inspect you.”

A few minutes later, ten elves popped into the room. One was wearing tea cozies as a hat and had socks on its feet. One was in a very sloppy and stained dress. The rest were dressed in ratty pillowcases and didn’t look at all well. Well this was difficult he didn’t need 10 elves. He pointed to the one in the tea cozy, “You what did you do to be freed?”

“Dobby was freed from a cruel master by the Great Harry Potter. Dobby was hoping that if Harry Potter’s dogfather took him in, then Dobby could serve around the Great Harry Potter. Dobby lives to serve Harry Potter,” the now named Dobby said.

Sirius thought about that for a minute, “Dobby, go to Harry and offer your services. Explain to him why you want to serve him. If he doesn’t take you, come back to me, and I will bond with you and have you serve only him as a child of the House of Black.”

Dobby popped away to 4 Privet Drive in the hope that his greatest wish would come true. 

Sirius pointed to the elf in the dress, “You, what did you do to be freed?”

“Winky is not knowing, sir. Winky is following orders and then Master accuses Winky of using a wand, but Winky didn’t. Winky was only following orders,” she cried in earnest. 

“Winky? Do you want to serve the House of Black?” 

“Winky will serve the House of Black. Winky lives to serve,” she said as she perked up a little. 

“Stand over there, and let me interview the rest of these elves,” Sirius said as he pointed to the wall on the far side of the room.

The elf did as she was told.

Sirius talked to the other elves and found two more that he felt would serve him well. They were a female named Tilly and a male name Dinky. He took oaths from the three elves after sending the rest away. He gave them the same orders he gave Kreacher once he had informed them that Kreacher was the head elf and that they were to take instructions from him. 

Sirius heaved a large sigh. He was still feeling the extra boost of magic, and it was making him antsy. He left and locked the room so no one could come in. As he was leaving the library, he gave permission to the room to allow the kids staying in the house access, but not the adults, except Moony. He felt that he would deny that privilege until the people in his house started respecting him. 

He made his way down the stairs and could already see the efforts that the elves were making. He came across his mother’s painting and decided that it could now be removed since he had so much help.

“Kreacher,” he called.

“Master has called Kreacher?”

“Yes, I want this painting removed. If you feel it would be too painful for you to remove, then have one of the other elves do it. Also, I want the elf heads moved to my mother’s old room. They would be more honored there,” Sirius ordered.

“Dinky,” Kreacher called.

“Dinky is being needed?” the youngish elf asked as he popped in.

“Master is wanting this painting removed,” Kreacher said in a strained voice. You could tell it was hard on him. After all, that painting had been giving him orders for years.

“Dinky, when you’ve removed the painting, cover it and put it in the attic,” Sirius ordered. He turned to Kreacher and knelt down to look in his eyes. “Kreacher, I know that was hard on you, and if you want, you may visit her once a month.”

“Master is too kind to Kreacher.” And, with the elf heads, he popped away.

Sirius continued his trek down the stairs, into the kitchen. He sat at the table and looked around. Elves were fast workers; he hadn’t seen the kitchen so clean since he was a lad. Molly was sitting at the table, fuming. She looked as Sirius and exploded, ignoring the stinging she was getting from the wards.

“Sirius Black, just what is going on around here? Some strange elf came into the kitchen and informs me that I was no longer needed! She forced me to leave. How dare you bond these poor elves to you? What give you the right to do that?” she yelled at him from across the table.

Sirius sat calmly and let her yell. “The right? Every wizard has the right to bond to a house elf. It is what they are for. Didn’t you know?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and looked at her like she was an ignorant child.

“It is slavery. No one has the right to do that. You will release them at once. Do you hear me?” Molly screamed, then flinched as the wards gave her an extra hard sting as a warning.

“Molly, I am not your child. This is not your house. You are here at my invitation. You cannot order me around as if was your own. How would you feel if I came to your house and started ordering you and your family to bond with elves and dirty up your house because I didn’t feel comfortable?” Sirius said calmly, yet firmly, to the mother of the Weasley family. 

“Why would anyone do that? That doesn’t make sense at all and is completely beside the point. You’re keeping slaves in this house, and I won’t have it. I had everything under control. We were getting a room done a day; there was no need for you to do this,” Molly said, confused and angry. She didn’t like it when people didn’t listen to her. “You just wait until Dumbledore gets here. He will set you right,” she threatened him. 

Now Sirius was getting angry. “You won’t have it? You won’t have it?” he spat, his voice rising. “How dare you threaten me in my own house? I can kick the lot of you out in minute, and you would have to fend for yourselves. I can remove you and keep your children and husband here, where they would be safe. It is a good thing for you I am not a vindictive man. You will keep your tongue or I will ban you to your room, only to be let out for meals and the loo,” he said, his face contorting to show she was pushing him to his limit. “You will leave Harry alone and he will sleep where I say he will. I may not be able to do much for the order, but I will be in command of this house,” he said, slamming his fist on the table. “You will sit down and shut the hell up. Do you feel the wards stinging you? They are teaching you manners. For all the harping you do on the children about manners, you seem to have very few. It will just keep getting worse the more you argue with me, then the house will evict you. Do you want that?” 

Molly huffed as she cross her arms over her chest, but remained quiet. The twins, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione came running into the room to see who was yelling. “Sit down everyone,” Sirius said, gesturing to the chairs around the table. The kids saw Molly sitting at the table, still fuming, and looked around with various expressions on their faces. “I want to let you know that you will no longer have to clean this house.”

The teens looked relieved; this was not an easy house to clean, and all of them had been hurt by the creatures that inhabited the house. 

“Things are going to be different around here. There are now four house elves to clean the house. Mother’s portrait will be removed. You can all access the library now, so you will have something to do. I will inform the house elves that you will be responsible for your own rooms, though. Stop,” he said, glaring at Hermione as she opened her mouth to tell him off. “If you start yelling at me, the house will sting you. If you continue, after so many warnings, you will be evicted. I don’t want that to happen. You do not have any right to impose your beliefs on me. You should research in the library so you will understand the nature of house elves. I asked each and every one of them if they wanted to bond. I did not take any by force,” he said firmly to her. “I sent the elf named Dobby to Harry to see if Harry wants to bond with him. It is Dobby's greatest desire to be bonded with Harry. If they do, you will respect that. If you cannot, then keep you opinions to yourself while you are in this house.” 

Hermione quieted. She didn’t want to be attacked by the wards, and she certainly didn’t want to be evicted; she had nowhere else to go. She sat, disgruntled. It was not often that she was told she couldn’t voice her opinion. Her parents always told her to speak out on what was bothering her. 

“Look,” Sirius said, running his hand through his hair and over his face, “I don’t want to come across as a hard ass. I just want you to understand that this is my house, and you are my guests. I will do everything in my power to make sure you are as comfortable as I can. If you need something, let me know, and I will do what I can to help. However, I will not put up with being treated as a child that broke the rules. Every single one of you knows the hell I’ve been through these past twelve years.” There were guilty faces all around. For some reason, they kept forgetting what Sirius had been through. It was probably that he only showed the carefree side of himself and not the torn man he had become. “It has taken its toll, I agree, but I am not a child that needs to be taken to task.”

“You have always been an irresponsible man. You have never taken anything seriously. You cause disorder in all the Order meetings, always fighting Dumbledore. He is a great man, and you should do as he says and not argue with him,” Molly argued. In her opinion, Dumbledore’s word was law, except when it came to her family. Then her word was law. 

“Molly,” he said, looking to her in ire, “you didn't know me until a couple of months ago. You only have the word of others that knew me before I was sent to Azkaban. How the hell could you make such an opinion of me?”

“If you had taken Harry from that house and never gone after Peter Pettigrew, then you would not have been put in Azkaban. That shows just how irresponsible you are,” she said in righteousness anger. 

“That was thirteen years ago; I’ve been punished for that. Are you telling me that when you were twenty-three you did everything right and nothing you did caused harm to anyone? I find your reasoning stupid to a major degree,” Sirius spat back at her.

“You still haven’t changed. I see the jokes you make in the Order meetings, and I see how you argue with everyone. These are not the signs of a responsible man. Those are the signs of the rebellious teen that everyone claims you are.”

“Molly,” he paused and gritted his teeth, looking at the teens watching them, then continued, “I am a prisoner here, and I can do nothing but offer my house as refuge. If I think something I say will help the war effort, then I am going to say it. Dumbledore is not God. He can be wrong, and if no one tells him so, he will continue not to seek our opinions and only demand servitude. Dumbledore is a great wizard, and I respect him, but, like you, he treats me and—hell—everyone else like children. We are adults and entitled to voice our differences without being sent to our rooms like bad little tykes.” 

He stood and flexed to relieve some of the stress in his shoulders, trying to calm down before the wards kicked everyone out. “I will remind him, like I did you, that this is my house, and I will be treated with respect. You can think on that. Talk to your husband—maybe he can get it through that thick head of yours that you are not in charge.” And with that, he left the room before he did something foolish.

Harry didn’t have the issue with the Dementors, Dobby was there to pop both boys away before he could do magic, so there was no trial. There was also no flight in the night sky, as Sirius felt that was just plain stupid. He sent Winky with a note telling Harry the secret and had the two elves pack for him and bring him there. 

The house finally looked like it had when it was newer. The house elves were plenty busy with all the people residing there. Molly never came around to his way of thinking, but after the house evicted her once, she keep her mouth shut, so he brought her back in and warned her that next time he wouldn’t.

Dumbledore was not happy that he couldn’t get Sirius to let Snape in, nor was he happy that only the children and Moony were allowed in the library. Sirius told him in no uncertain terms the new rules of the house and, since he had no other place for the Order, he complied. He just wasn’t happy about it. Mundungus took a vow not to steal anything, so he was allowed in with a warning not to try anything.

Sirius put Harry in Regulus’s room and taught him all the things he should have been taught long ago. Because Kreacher renewed his vows, he never went behind Sirius’s back to the women of the Black family. He also let Harry know that Sirius was in the house when that frantic call came, so the fight at the Department of Mysteries never happened. In the end, Sirius used all of his resources to help the war effort.

When the hunt for the Horcruxes was on, he was a great asset. His name was finally cleared when Peter was captured during the battle of Hogwarts, and all because of that red-haired harpy woman trying to rule his house.

 

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AN: It has always bothered me that in OoTP Molly completely takes over Grimmuald Place. If that was my house, I would have booted her out so fast that her head would have spun. Really, it was just plain rude. So, in this fic, we’re going to borrow the clichéd Black Family Magic and slap Molly down.

AN2: I’m not very good at fight scenes, even if they are only arguments.


	9. They are NOT All Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and the gang sit Ron down and show him that not all Slytherins were evil.

They Are Not All EVIL

Summary: Harry and the gang sit Ron down and show him that not all Slytherins are evil. 

AN: Thanks to my lovely beta, LadyLini, for all her help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all her help in my learning to do it on my own. all mistakes are still my own. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. 

hphphp++

It was the winter break of Harry Potter’s fifth year. He had just saved Arthur Weasley from dying of a snake bite, via a vision he had had just before the break. The Weasley family, sans Arthur, and Hermione were at Grimmauld Place with Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather. It was just after Yule, and they were all sitting in the living room, discussing what was going on in the school that year. 

“Umbridge is evil, I tell you. I’ll bet she was sorted into Slytherin.” Ron snorted. 

“Yeah, she was—” Hermione started, only to be interrupted by Ron.

“See, all Slytherins are slimy evil snakes. No good comes out of that house I tell you,” Ron stated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and flopping back in his chair.

“If you would let me finish—” Hermione glared at Ron, “—Dolores Umbridge was a Slytherin, but her dad, Orford Umbridge, was a Hufflepuff and worked at the Ministry as a janitor. Her mum, Ellen Cracknell, was a Muggle, and her brother was a squib. So, yeah, she was a bad egg, but her family was not.” Hermione huffed. She made it her duty to look up any DADA teacher she could after her second year. Despite the fact that most DADA teachers couldn’t be found in the library’s records, Umbridge could because she worked for the current Ministry.

“You know, Ron, I didn’t think you thought of your grandmother as a ‘slimy evil snake’. I wonder how she feels about that,” Sirius said to the indignant boy. 

“My grandmum was not a slimy snake!” Ron shouted, leaping from his chair.

“Um, Ron, yeah, she was,” Fred said, looking at his twin, George, questioningly.

“Didn’t ya know?” George asked, looking at Ron in confusion.

“Grandma Weasley was a Black before she married Grandpa. I thought everyone in the family knew that. Why do you think we don’t yell about Slytherins? I know a few people that are famous that were Slytherins and not evil,” Ginny said, joining the discussion. 

“Come on, everyone, let’s go into the tapestry room. I’ll show you a few on the family tree,” Sirius said, getting up and leading the teens into the tapestry room. “Phineas Black Jr.: he didn’t take his father, and namesake’s, view on the topic of pure-blood supremacy and was disowned by the family for supporting Muggle rights. He was the Old Phineas Black’s son—not that one was rotten to the core. He was known as the worst Headmaster of Hogwarts,” Sirius said, pointing out each Phineas on the tapestry in turn. 

“Here is your grandmother, Cedrella Weasley, née Black. As you can see, she was blasted off for marrying a blood-traitor,” he continued with his finger sliding down the tree, “and here is Andromeda Tonks, née Black. She's Tonks’s mum—also sorted into Slytherin. Then there’s me, though I was in Gryffindor.” He looked at the tree with a hint of sorrow. He was the last Black. After him, the once strong family began to die. Oh well, he thought to himself, at least I left all my money to Harry. I called the family extinct so no one can take that from him.

“Ron,” Harry said, drawing his attention away from the tapestry, “do you have your Chocolate Frog Cards?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, tilting his head to the side trying to figure out what that had to do with what they were talking about, “I pretty much carry them everywhere. Do you want to see them? Not really sure about your timing, though.”

Harry smiled at his friend’s confusión, “Could you go get them? I want to show you something, and I’m sure Sirius and Hermione can help me out.” He looked to the two and could see they understood what he was about to do.

Ron shrugged and left to get his cards.

“Meet us back in the living room,” Sirius called after him.

The rest of the group went to the living room and waited for Ron to return with his cards. 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing Harry?” Hermione asked. “I mean, I know what you’re doing, but are you sure this will work?” She had been trying to beat it into Ron’s head from day one that not all Slytherins were evil, but he would just cut her off and remain firm in his beliefs. But really to not even know his grandmother was Slytherin was very closed minded.

The other Weasley children followed, not really sure what the three were talking about. They didn’t really follow the cards; that was mostly Ron.

Ron returned to the room with his cards and sat down across form Harry. “Here you go, mate. What did you need them for?” he asked, trying to hand the deck to Harry.

“No, you keep them for a minute,” Harry said, gently pushing the box back to Ron. “So you have almost all the cards. Which one is the most famous wizard in Britain?”

“Merlin. Didn’t you know?” Ron asked.

“Umm, yeah, I knew. Could you take his card out?” Harry asked. Ron looked through the cards, then took Merlin’s out and held it up. “Now, read the back, and tell me what house he was sorted in.”

“Slytherin,” Ron whispered in denial. “That can’t be right. There’s no way Merlin was in that house.” His whole world view came crashing down. He could brush off the Blacks, even his grandmum—they were always a weird bunch—, but Merlin was the most famous wizard in the world.

“Ron, the whole house divide is just stupid. Look here,” Harry said looking through the box he had retrieved from the floor after it fell form Ron’s fingers. “ ‘Phillipus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim (1493—1541), more commonly known as Paracelsus, was a secretive alchemist about whom very little is known. He also contributed to the field of medicine, having been a notable physician. Paracelsus's bold theories challenged medieval thought. Paracelsus was credited with the discovery of Parseltounge,” Harry quoted. “He was sorted into Slytherin.” ** 

Hermione took over the cards and sorted a few out. “And here, ‘Miranda Goshawk was born in 1921, somewhere in Great Britain, the last of nine daughters born to the wizarding Goshawk family. Her family was relatively impoverished by the time she arrived, and she recalls having to wear her sisters' hand-me-down robes, which she found “embarrassing”,’ ” she quoted, then handed the card back to Ron. “She was also a Slytherin,** and she wrote our charms books.” 

“Figures you would know that one,” Harry teased his bookworm friend, “and not any of the others.” He turned towards his friend. “Did you know the Malfoys use to do business with Muggles? And one of them tried to court the Queen of that time? Don’t remember what his name was though…” He scratched his head. “But, yeah, that’s how they made all their money after they came here from France. They stopped when the Statue of Secrecy was established. They were all sorted into Slytherin.”

Hermione looked as shocked as Ron about that piece of information, though not for the same reason. “How did you know that?” she stuttered not expecting Harry to know something that trivial.

“Well, it is said that you should know your enemy, and the Malfoys, for all their spouting of blood-traitors, are a bunch of hypocrites,” he said smugly. “I looked it up in the library. They have tons of books on the ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’,” he said, with air quotes, then a thoughtful look passed over his face. “Hmm, let me see if I can remember who.” He thought for a minute and flapped his hand at Hermione to shush her. *“The Sacred Twenty-Eight are said to be the only pure-blood family left in Britain in 1930. They are: Abbott, Avery, Black, Bulstrode, Burke, Carrow, Crouch, Fawley, Flint, Gaunt, Greengrass, Lestrange, Longbottom, Macmillan, Malfoy, Nott, Ollivander, Parkinson, Prewett, Rosier, Rowle, Selwyn, Shacklebolt, Shafiq, Slughorn, Travers, Weasley, and Yaxley,” he said, out of breath. 

His friends looked at him in amazement for a moment; it was usually Hermione that would quote weird stuff like that. “What? I can’t know stuff? I wanted to know who they are, might come handy in the future. Anyway, these guys on the Chocolate Frog Cards are just the famous ones. There are loads of others, just like any other house, that just want to live their life and not take over the world.”

“Yeah.” Ron snorted, still trying to defend himself. “And you’ll notice that most of them are Death Eaters. And everyone knows that all the Death Eaters are Slytherin.” He still wasn't getting the point.

“The Potters should have been on that list,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “Not sure why they aren’t ‘cause until your dad married you mum, they were pure-bloods.”

“My grandparents were pure-blood?” Harry asked. “Is that why I’m considered a half-blood? Never mind, I knew that. Just never thought about it, I guess.”

“Don’t you know who your grandparents are?” Sirius asked, cursing himself for not having told Harry about his family. “Your grandma was Dorea Black,* married your grandfather, though for some reason she wasn’t kicked out of the family. Sorry I didn’t point her out in the tapestry room—I figured you knew. Anyway, she’s the only reason I can justify leaving everything to you in my Will. You’re related.”

“No,” said Harry, shaking his head, “there aren’t any books on the Potters in the library, and no one talks about them for some reason.”

“We’ll talk about them before you go back to school. I’ll tell you everything I know,” Sirius said. After all, when he had run away as a teen, the Potters were the ones that had taken him in. Since he and James had been good friends in school, he had gotten to know the elder Potters and they always treated him like a son. He felt safe with them. 

“Back to the subject at hand,” Hermione said, though she vowed to herself to look up the Potters somehow. “Ron, you have to know your statement isn’t true. Peter Pettigrew was Gryffindor. Professor Quirell was a Ravenclaw, and I’m sure that there are many others we don’t know. You’ll get yourself killed one day by thinking like that. You might just trust the wrong person because you only think of the house they were sorted into,” she stated firmly to her friend. “Just like you do Professor Snape. I mean, we have good reason to hate the man. But Dumbledore trusts him enough to let him in the order. So, maybe we’re missing some information on him and you’re letting his house get in the way of finding out what that is.”

“Yeah, Ron,” Ginny said with an apologetic look to Harry and Sirius. “After all, that’s what happened to the Potters. Do you really want to be the one that gets your family killed? And look at what’s happening to Luna. Those Ravenclaws that bully her are just as bad as Death Eaters—well, maybe not as bad, but they have the potential.”

“Really, Ron…” George said, shaking his head.

“sometimes your bigotry…” continued Fred.

“reminds us of Malfoy,” they finished together.

Ron blanched; he had never really thought of it as bigotry—he just knew he was right. He had proof, after all. But now that the evidence was pointed out to him in this way, maybe—just maybe—he was wrong. This was going to take some deep thinking on his part. With that thought, he got up and abruptly stomped out the room. 

“Do you think we got through to him?” Hermione asked worriedly as she watched her best friend storm out of the room.

“Merlin, I hope so,” Harry said. He too was worried about his friend, but he also knew that it had needed to be done. Everything they had said to Ron was true, and he needed to get his head out of his arse before he got someone killed—or worse, got himself killed. Ron was a good guy, but he was always so sure that he was right that he couldn’t see that there was good and bad in every house. He needed to know this if they were going to go to war. “We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess. Let’s talk about something else for now.”

Ron did eventually come around. It was hard to get over years of thinking, but what his friends and family had told him made sense. He started to pay attention to the people around him and started learning spells to protect his friends—stuff that would get noticed. And because of that, he was the one who prevented Dumbledore’s Army from being caught. He noticed Marietta Edgecombe didn’t really want to be there and Obliviated her before she could talk to Umbridge.

Hermione then made every other member vow that they would not tell Umbridge where they were and who they were. Cho Chang, who was Edgecombe’s best friend, was also booted out and Obliviated. 

Though Dumbledore’s Army was never caught, Dumbledore was still relieved of duty on trumped up charges and the rest of the year ended in the same way, which meant Sirius Black, beloved godfather of Harry Potter, died in the battle of the Department of Mysteries. 

 

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AN: A lot, and I mean a lot, of fics depict Slytherin as a completely evil house. I refuse to believe that all cunning and ambitious people are evil. I know that there are also a lot of fics that depict this. But if everyone did their research, they would know it was not true. 

Everything on here can be found on Harry Potter Wiki except… (*) which is not confirmed, (**) was added it as I needed some more Slytherins, they are on Wiki, they just weren’t assigned a house and they sounded Slytherin.


	10. Changing Hogwarts --Literally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the chosen heir to Hogwarts, Harry feels it would be more cost effective and safer if it were a little smaller and brighter.

Changing Hogwarts—Literally 

Summary: As the chosen heir to Hogwarts, Harry feels it would be more cost effective and safer if the school was a little smaller and brighter.

AN1: Thanks to my lovely beta, LadyLini, for all her help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all her help in my learning to do it on my own. All mistakes are still my own. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. 

 

hphphp

Since Harry Potter’s first year at Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had been hearing a voice whisper excitedly in the back of his head. At first, he tried to hear what it was saying, but he couldn’t quite understand it. So, he waited to see what happened. During his second year, the voice got louder and more excited. It continued on throughout the years, and whenever he was in danger, he could hear it trying to yell at him. During his fourth year, when he was most stressed, due to his name coming out of the thrice damned goblet, Ron’s betrayal, Hermione’s nagging, out-flying a dragon, and finding a date for the Yule ball, he took to wandering the halls at night under his invisibility cloak. 

It was around midnight, two weeks before the ball, that he was wandering the seventh floor, trying to avoid Flinch and his vindictive cat, when he felt a pull to go to the end of the corridor and stand in front of the wall across the tapestry of the man trying to teach trolls to dance. He stared blankly at the wall until he heard the whisper tell him to start pacing, so he did. 

A door appeared next to him, and he opened it. Inside, there was a room with two comfortable chairs, a small coffee table, and a roaring fire place. In one of the chairs, sat a teenage girl. She didn’t have a student robe on; instead, she wore a simple woven dress, straight out of the Founders’ time. Her hair was midnight black, and her eyes were like the summer sky. She looked at Harry as he sat down across from her. 

“Finally,” she said with a small smile. “I’ve been trying to get you here since you first crossed my wards.”

“Um, sorry,” Harry said with a frown. “Not to be rude or anything, but who are you?”

The girl giggled. “I’m Hogwarts.”

Harry’s jaw fell. “How is that possible?” he asked, shocked. “I mean, I guess magic and all… but why has no one spoken of you before? You were… um, built, I guess, over a thousand years ago. Not even Hermione has said anything, and she’s read all about Hogwarts.”

The girl sighed. “I know. I was once a very well know entity, but when the Founders’ families decided they didn’t want to stay in the castle and moved to Hogsmeade, they lost touch with me. As the years went by, I became nothing more than a rumor. When no heir talked to me, I faded. I have tried to talk to the heirs throughout the years, but they ignore me, not wanting to seem crazy.” She gave a small shrug. “When you heard my whispers and tried to talk back, I got excited and woke up a little be more. The reason I need an heir to talk to is that, though the Headmaster, or Mistress, control the wards, they’ve lost control on the castle itself. There was a time that I was asked to rearrange the castle to suit the needs of the times.”

“Okay, I’m not sure I understand what you mean. Like, you move the staircases or how the hospital wing moves?” Harry asked, his brow creased with confusion.

“To a smaller extent, yes. Let me see if I can give an example. When the Founders first created me, I was a fortress. I could defend the inhabitants of the castle by completely sealing myself off. As time went by and such strong measures weren’t needed, I change to a thing of beauty instead. For the first two hundred years or so, I changed shape five times. Then, like I said, the decedents stopped talking to me, and the Headmasters never had that control,” she explained, waving her hand in the air to show pictures of the five different forms she had taken. “Eventually, when I faded, the magic used for the changes stayed in the air with no one to control it. That’s why there are so many things that still move on their own.”

“Yeah, I can see that. So what do you need from me? I’m not a descendant of any of the Founders, no matter what was said in my second year.” 

“Oh, but you are. You are descended from Godric,” the girl informed him, giggling at his shocked face.

“There’s no way. Someone would’ve told me by now. Besides, after all these years, there have to be loads of people who are older and more qualified than me,” Harry argued. Dumbledore had once said that only a true Gryffindor could use the sword of Gryffindor, but that didn’t mean he was actually from that family line; it just showed he had all the traits the house inspired. 

“Sure, didn’t you hear me earlier? I said I’ve tried to speak to every one of them. There are sometimes twenty heirs in this castle at once, but they have never answered like you did. Some of them tried, but when they told their friends, they were encouraged not to—said people would think they were crazy. You almost stopped when your friend told you something like that in your second year. My heart almost broke because I was so close to waking,” she informed him with a sad shake of her head. “That, and you’ve always felt like this was home to you; they didn’t.”

“Look, I get that you believe what you’re telling me is true, but you still didn’t answer my question. What do you want from me?” Harry stared intently at the girl, willing her to answer. He didn’t hold much hope though, since no one ever really answered his questions. 

“You really don’t listen, do you?” she huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “I want you to ask me to change the castle to suit its current needs. It’s been over 800 years since I’ve been of service, and I’m bored.”

Harry thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m going to need to ask a bunch of people what they think. This isn’t something I need right now, what with all the crap going on in my life. Give me at least a month, and I’ll come back.” 

She gave him a look of pity. “I understand. I had hoped to warn you about the person who put your name in the goblet, but since I hadn’t fully woken I couldn’t see who it was. I just knew what they were doing. I know you heard all my warnings throughout the years. I had hoped that you would have tried harder to hear me so that I could be of more help to you.”

“That’s okay,” Harry said with a shrug. Then, switching from the uncomfortable subject, he asked, “Where are we anyway? This room isn’t on the Marauders Map.”

The girls started to bounce. “This room is the Room of Requirements, or the Come and Go room. Rowena set it up so that studious learners could come here for quiet. They could bring up any room they felt comfortable in and have any book that has every passed the wards show up here. They can’t take any out because they are just a magic copy, but they can learn anything they want.” Her shoulders drooped and a sad look cross her face. “About 300 years ago, an up and coming Dark Lady learned everything she needed to gain her power. When she was questioned before she died, she told them about this room. The Headmaster of that time deemed it necessary to wipe the knowledge completely from everyone’s mind, since he couldn’t destroy the room. I wouldn’t let him, even faded as I was. No one can destroy a part of me. He even used this room to find out how. Now, the only time anyone comes in here is if they find it by mistake. Or they are lead here by me.”

“Well, I can understand why he’d do that.” Harry shuddered, thinking of what Voldemort could do if he knew about this room. “Anyway, I have to get back to my dorm. I don’t want to get caught.”

“Oh,” she said, face brightening, “I can make a door that goes straight to your bed.” She waved her hand and a door appeared in the back of the room. “Just step through, and when you are in your dorm, the door will fade.” 

Harry stepped through the door, after saying his good-bye’s, and wound up right next to his bed. He looked behind him, and the door faded. ‘Damn,’ he thought, ‘just another thing to do. Maybe it will come in handy when I need to take a break from Hermione and Ron. I might go to the room and see if it can help me with the second task. Merlin knows I’m not making any headway. I need to think about what she wants. I think that, in order to do this correctly, I’m going to need the whole school’s opinion. I don’t want anyone to feel left out. How am I going to do that?’ With those thoughts, he went to bed and dreamed about the castle changing shape.

About a week went by, and Harry finally found a date for the ball. The Patil twins were kind enough to go with him and Ron. With that off his mind, he went back to the Room of Requirements and asked for a room that would teach him to dance. The Lady Hogwarts, as he called her, appeared again in a room that had a shiny wooden floor and loads of mirrors on the walls. There was waltz music playing gently in the air. Lady Hogwarts was dressed in a grey, green trimmed formal gown. It had a high neck, long sleeves, and the bodice was tight around her girlish figure. The skirt fell to the floor.

“I didn’t know you needed to learn to dance,” she said with a giggle, standing in the middle of the room. “Well, let’s get started.” She held out her arms. Her right arm rose in the air, as if to grab his shoulder, with her left held in front of her, as if to grab his waist.

“Um, what do I do first?” Harry asked, standing just out of reach of her arms. 

“First, you position your arms in the opposite direction of mine. Then, when you’ve done that, step closer, and put the first hand on my shoulder, the second on my waist. I’ll do the same.”

Harry did as instructed, blushing the whole time. “Now, because you’re learning, I’m going to lead, and you just feel the music and follow along.”

The next two hours could be termed a disaster, but they plowed on. Finally, Harry was allowed to leave. However, he was told to come back the next night, after curfew.

This continued for the next week. Harry was quite a good dancer now—at least, he thought he was. At least he wouldn’t make a fool of himself and his date. Lady Hogwarts had chastised him for not thinking kindly of the girl who had agreed to go with him. She told him that Parvati could be heard saying that she was so happy to go to the ball. Both she and her sister had been worried that no one would ask them because they were foreigners. Harry felt bad; he had only asked her on a whim and hadn’t really thought about her after. He swore to himself that he was going to do his best to make it a good night for her. 

The ball went well. He and Parvati danced all night, and he even danced with her sister Padma.

Ron, on the other hand, didn’t have a good a night. He fought with Hermione, even though Harry told him not to, as well as with Harry. He even fought with his date. Finally, a professor told him to leave, much to everyone’s relief. Ron had glared at Harry when he didn’t go with him. Harry had simply shrugged; it wasn’t his fault that Ron was such a git. 

The second task was approaching, and Harry still hadn’t figured out the egg. He had put off going to the Room of Requirement, hoping that it was something he could do himself. Disappointed, he went to the room, and it provided him with a large bathtub, a chair, and a table with books that he would need to accomplish his task. He sat at the table and pulled the first book toward himself. It made him feel a little better that the answers weren’t simply handed to him; he still had to study to find them. It took two day, at one hour intervals, to find it. He took a bath, heard the poem, and panicked. He didn’t know how to swim. 

“Silly Harry. Remember, that’s what I’m here for.” Hogwarts appeared in the tub with him, causing Harry to freak out.

“Ahhhh, what are you doing?” He jumped out of the tub, grabbed a towel, and held it in front of him. 

“You’re so much fun.” She giggled, stood up, and showed off her old fashion bathing suit. “There’s really no need for you to be so modest. You’re covering all the good bits.”

“Lady, don’t say that. You’re like a thousand years old,” Harry said, breaking one of the sacred taboos: Don’t remind a woman of her age.

Hogwarts glared at him, then sighed. “Teenagers; no tact at all.”

Harry blushed and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand. Go stand over by that wall so I can change the room.” She gestured to the wall by the door. Harry grabbed his egg and complied. The room morphed into a large swimming pool. The chair and table moved closer to Harry, and new books appeared. “These books will help you figure out how you can stay underwater for an hour or more. Study them first, and in an hour, we will start your lessons.”

The swimming lessons went better than the dance lessons had. Harry reckoned that gillyweed would be his best bet and sent Hedwig off to get some from Diagon Alley. 

The second task was completed, with Parvati as his hostage. Ron was upset again that he wasn’t something Harry would miss the most. Harry believed that it was because they weren’t talking, and Hermione was Viktor’s. He and the Patil twins had started hanging out and studying with Hermione. Ron was grousing about and stating that Harry abandoned him at the ball. Ron would really have to get his priorities straight if he wanted to continue to be Harry’s friend. Harry wasn’t holding much hope.

Now that his stress was reduced, he started thinking about how he was going to get everyone’s opinion on changing the castle, without telling them about Lady Hogwarts. An idea came to him, and he went to the kitchens to recruit the house elves. 

Right before Easter break, pieces of parchment appeared after dinner one night on the plates in front of the students. They said:

If you could, how would you change the castle?

Think of the best way that would suit everyone, and write your reason below.

Think of your dorms and common rooms, and write your changes below.

Think of the ways it would be easiest to get to your classrooms, and write your plans below.

Think of all the things you hate about the castle (too cold, not enough windows, position of the classrooms and the dorms…, etc.), and write them below.

Any changes you think would benefit you, write below.

Don’t worry about putting your name on the paper. Fill it out the best you can, and leave it on your plate. It will disappear when you are done. Try and fill it out before the professors pick it up. This is a survey for the students, not the staff.

Most of the students quickly filled the form out. As soon as they were done, they put them on their clean and empty plates, then the form disappeared. Some weren’t fast enough, and the forms were taken from them. Harry figured more than five-sixths of the students got to finish. The elves had orders from Lady Hogwarts to place them in the Room of Requirement and not tell the professors or Headmaster where they were. 

Dumbledore addressed the Great Hall, “I see someone has played quite the prank. Does anyone care to confess?” No one said a word, because they really didn’t know who had put the forms there. “It distresses me that someone feels the castle is not perfect. I do not know the reason anyone would play such a prank. Alas, what’s done is done. Students, think no more of it. Off you trot, it is getting close to curfew.” 

Over the break, Harry and Lady Hogwarts went over the forms and balanced everything out. “Lady,” Harry said, “I think I have a plan now. I think that, if we reduce some of the empty rooms, the elves won't have to clean them. And if we reduce the number of windows, that will cut down on the drafts, and we won't need to use as much firewood. I think we can also add gardens to the courtyards, to reduce the amount of vegetables that the elves have to buy. We might ask them to serve more fruits and vegetables and reduce the amount of meat. It would be good for the students to eat a more well balanced diet anyway.”

"Those are really good ideas! Let’s plan,” Lady Hogwarts said. Together, the two bent their heads over the table and started planning.

 

After the third task, Harry had almost forgotten about the Hogwarts renovations, due to Voldemort’s return. Then, he heard the whispers of a fearful Hufflepuff, Sally Anne Perks, wondering if the castle was safe enough to come back to. Harry remembered her from his sorting; she was right before him. She looked like she never wanted to step foot in the wizarding world again.

‘She must be a Muggle-born. If I were in her place, I don’t think I would come back either. Oh Merlin, Hermione must be losing her mind with worry. Merlin, I’m such a selfish person,’ Harry thought suddenly. He ran to the Room of Requirement to talk to Lady Hogwarts. They needed to change the plans a little—there was going to be a war. 

“I want change the plan so it will fit with a battle ready castle. Do you know the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry asked, “ ‘Cause if you do that will help a lot.”

“Salazar hid it from me, and I couldn’t feel it until one of his heirs opened it 800 years ago.” She shrugged. “I guess the charm to hide it from me wore off. It was at that time, though, that I started drifting.”

“Great. We can use it then. Here is my idea,” Harry said, beginning to draw with a pen and paper that the room provided. “Let’s get the house elves to kick everyone out, including the Headmaster, over the summer, then you can start to change. If you need extra material, you can get the elves to go get if for you. But with what I’m planning, you should be able to use what’s left from the changes.”

Along with the changing of the plan of the castle, Harry asked for books he could take home and study. He needed to be prepared; he was Voldemort’s number one victim. Hogwarts pulled books from the professors’ shelves and taught Harry how to copy them. She didn’t want to lose the only person who had spoken with her in the last 800 years. 

The students and the staff all went home that year with a note that stated thus:

To the occupants of Hogwarts:

I know you are scared. Even if you don’t believe that You-Know-Who is back, you should still learn all you can to defend yourself and your family. This note, however, is not about that. This note is to tell you that Hogwarts will be preparing for war this summer and will be the fortress it needs to be to protect you and your families next year. If you can get your families to take the time off to live here, space will be provided for them, including the Muggles. 

It wasn’t signed, and the staff was going crazy trying to find out who sent it. They were shocked that someone invited non-students to reside in Hogwarts. They did everything to try and prevent it, but the wards changed, and they were powerless. The Headmaster was upset that someone had control over his castle. Everyone was evicted that summer, except the house elves. 

The summer progressed normally for Harry. He studied the books he had taken home, careful not to actually do any magic. When the Dementors came, he grabbed Dudley and ran for the nearest house. He banged on the door and the people inside saw the two frightened boys and let them in. The coldness covered the house for two hours before it went away. A team of Aurors came and erased their memories; Harry had no idea how they knew. The Aurors escorted the boys home and explained to the fuming Dursleys what had happened. A week later, Harry was at Sirius’s house, and no trial was held because Harry had used no magic. 

When the staff returned to Hogwarts a few weeks before term, they were shocked by the changes. They tried to undo them but couldn’t. The wards now had an added ill intent ward, so Dolores Umbridge couldn’t enter the castle. She was furious. Dumbledore had to explain to the Ministry that he had no control over the castle anymore. He was scrambling to find a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He was finally able to convince Minister Fudge to let him have an Auror teach. Fudge was slightly mollified by the fact that there would be someone who could report to him. 

When the students got off the train and started to the castle they stopped and stared. The castle was smaller and had no windows. The towers had been reduced to four, and the building was square. There was a wall that surrounded the castle completely; the Forbidden Forest was blocked off.

There was a large map at the entrance, showing the way to the new Great Hall. The students were amazed by how light it was in the entrance, and the light continued throughout the halls. The Hall looked the same, so everyone sat where they normally had. On the table in front of them, was another map, showing them the way to their common rooms. 

The Slytherins were no longer in the dungeons, because there were no dungeons. The area where the dungeons had been was now the kitchen and storage area. It was blocked off from everyone except the staff. The students would no longer be able to sneak snacks. The Slytherins now had a tower, just like everyone else. Theirs was the one on the north-east side of the castle. 

The Hufflepuffs had received a similar treatment. The basement had been changed to suites for the refugees. That particular part of the castle was blocked off from the rest with its own dining hall. The Hufflepuffs were in the south-east tower.

The Gryffindors were still in the same tower, the north-west, but the tower’s entrance had moved to be closer to the castle’s main door, on the main floor like the other towers. 

That left the Ravenclaws on the north-east tower. They also had a ground floor entrance.

After the sorting, Dumbledore stood and asked for silence. “As you can see, the castle has changed. We don’t know how or who did this, so please do not ask the professors. The maps you have in your hands will show you to your dorms and classes. Please note that the greenhouses have been moved to the enlarged courtyard. Care of Magical creatures will be there as well. It seems as though whoever did this does not want anyone to roam the outside of the castle. However, there are gardens surrounding the courtyard and the top of each of your towers has an area where you can go to relax. Hogsmeade weekends have not changed, except that you will now go in carriages instead of walking. Now, enough of an old man’s rambling. Let’s eat.” He clapped his hands, and dinner appeared on the table. 

The students ate amongst whispers and rumors. Soon, the students were being led by the house ghosts to the new dorms. The halls were well lit, which was odd, as there were no windows on the outside of the castle, and it was night. It was also much warmer since there was no draft. 

“Sir Nicholas, do you know what happened to the castle?” Hermione asked as she kept watch on her charges. She had been made prefect. 

The ghost didn’t turn to answer; instead, he moved back a little since Hermione was in the front of the line. “Yes, but we are sworn to secrecy. If the person that did this wants you to know, he or she will tell everyone at the same time.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks anyway,” she said disappointedly. 

The Gryffindor tower looked much the same. It was positioned differently, and the light that was in the halls was now in the common room. Every student found it was the same when they went to their dorms, except the Slytherins, because their rooms were now layered up instead of out. 

Hermione studied the map. “It looks like all the non-magical studies are on the North side of the castle and take two floors, except Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. The wand magic classes are on the East side and also take two floors. The West side of the castle looks to be the teachers’ area. It doesn’t say what the second through seventh floor are for. I wonder how we’re going to do Astronomy now that that tower is gone.”

“I think it’s great. No more climbing the stairs to Divination and Astronomy. We only have to go to the second floor for those. I hated all those stairs,” Ron said, relaxing in a chair by the fire. 

“I like the wall around the castle. I think it will serve us well when the war breaks out,” Harry said, looking around the room. He had expected to be shunned again what with all the papers were saying about him. Maybe the note had done some good. That, or they were just too shocked to worry about the rumors. He could feel the new wards and Lady Hogwarts, who was feeling smug, and they made him feel safe. 

They continued discussing the changes for a while more, but soon everyone was too tired and they went off to bed. 

The next morning, armed with their maps, the students went to breakfast, wondering what else had changed. Classes progressed normally, and a lot of the students were talking about the survey they had taken last year. Many of them made comments about how this was what they wanted and how much easier it was to get to their classes. Especially the two in the courtyard; Many students were astounded by that particular feature. The only class that was held outside the castle, but inside it’s outer wall, was Flying class; it was held on the Quidditch pitch. That too was easier to get to because of the pathway leading there. There were torches that were lit at night to lead the way, as well. 

Two weeks after the start of school, Harry went to the Room of Requirement and talked to Lady Hogwarts. “This is wonderful! Almost everyone’s dreams of what the castle should look like have come true. How are we going to get the parents to come? Should we send an invitation?” Harry asked, his face lit up by a smile. He grabbed the giggling girl and twirled her around the room. “Do you think we can get Sirius here? I know he hates where he is at now.”

“Yes, I blocked off the seventh floor on the south side just for the Order of the Phoenix. You should write to the Headmaster and let him know. Then write to Sirius, and tell him that if the Headmaster doesn’t listen, he can sneak in the way he did before, and an elf will lead him to where he needs to go,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. She was ecstatic that she could finally help her charges once more. 

“It’s too bad that we can’t control what classes are taught. Some English and Math classes would be great,” Harry said with a small sigh.

“Why can’t we?” Lady Hogwarts asked with a frown.

“You mean we can? That’s wicked.” Harry brightened.

“Sure, just ask the Muggles that will come here. I’m sure there are a few of them that are teachers. Have them set up in the south tower, and make it optional. Kids can go during their free periods. I can provide the books needed. I’ll just have an elf get them.” She shrugged. 

“You are the best. Let me start writing the letters. I can take money out of my account to pay anyone who teaches. I don’t want them to do it for free,” Harry said, smiling at what he thought Hermione would say. 

“Why don’t you just use the school fund?” She asked.

“Isn’t that controlled by the Governors?” 

“No. It is control by the person in charge of the castle, and that’s you. Well, and the Headmaster, so you will have to tell him what you are doing. But I think he will agree, since he’s been trying to get those classes in here since he started teaching.” 

“Okay, I’ll make sure to put that in the letter.” Harry sat at the table that appeared, took out the parchment and ink he needed, and started writing.

A month later, the bottom floor was filled with refugees. The attacks on the Muggle world had a lot of people scared. The ones that couldn’t take time off of work got to Floo from the castle to the Leaky Cauldron and continue on from there. They had to wear a charm that would let them back into the castle, but it worked for them. The letter they received explained that they couldn’t interact with the students, except on the weekends, so as not to interfere with their studies. 

Harry’s fifth year was uneventful. He still had dreams, but because Sirius was in the castle, he knew the vision was false. He had plenty of time to study for his OWL’s and had taken some of the Muggle classes in his spare time. The first time Snape tried to read his mind, he was knocked out for a week and never tried again. Sirius and Remus, who were also staying there, took it upon themselves to teach him. 

He had checked the Marauders’ Map to see if it updated—it had. He used it to make sure no one got through the wards, like Pettigrew. He didn’t think they could, but he knew that he could never be too careful. 

Harry, Sirius, Remus, and the Weasleys stayed in the castle with most of the other refugees that summer. The Dursleys declined the invitation and moved out of Britain to the United States, where Vernon received a promotion. Harry never saw them again. Dumbledore finally gave in and let him stay with Sirius. 

Draco wasn’t allowed back in the sixth year because of the ill intent ward. Voldemort was furious. All his plans to get to Harry and Dumbledore were foiled. 

When Dumbledore was cursed by the ring, he smartened up and told the Order about the horcruxes. Because there were so many wizards and witches in the Order, they found or bought all the horcruxes back. Sirius got the necklace, Bill got the cup (he returned some goblin-made trinkets to them as a trade) and the one in Harry, Dumbledore got the ring, Harry got the diadem (and tasked the house elves to sort through the Room of Lost Things), and Snape poisoned Nagini. 

Voldemort found out that all his horcruxes had been destroyed, but he couldn’t make another because his soul was too unstable and might leave his body with no anchor. He made plans to take the castle if it was the last thing he did. And it was. 

The battle between Voldemort and Harry was hidden behind a golden dome. Only Harry emerged. With the changes of the castle, the refugees (who formed a small army with Muggle weapons) and the Order staying there, the only people lost were those who fought. None of the teachers and only a few of the Order died. Pettigrew was captured, and Sirius had his trial. The war was over, and Lady Hogwarts wanted to know if she should change again. So she called Harry to the Room of Requirement. 

“Harry,” she said when they had both gotten comfortable in the room they first used, “do you think we should change the castle again, now that the war is over?”

“I think you should add some windows, with glass this time, to the outside. But other than that, I’ve heard nothing but good things. Leave the suites for now, and maybe we can set up a weekend program for the parents who want to visit their kids,” Harry replied, sinking deeper into the chair. He hadn’t slept much in the last month. Everyone wanted him to tell them about his battle with Voldemort, but he wasn’t talking. Dumbledore was dying, and that made everyone sad, so sleep wasn’t coming to a lot of people. Harry now had all of the Hallows and was considered the Master of Death, but that’s a different story. 

So the only changes after the war were the windows added to the outside. A gate was formed to the Forbidden Forest for Hagrid to perform his duties and get animals for his classes, though he was upset when some were not let in. 

Life went on at Hogwarts; the only sad thing that happened was the death of the Headmaster. A new one was found, an older man from Ireland, who had applied over the summer. He kept the Muggle classes and found new people for the Head of Houses, so that the professors could focus on their other duties. 

All and all, it worked out for the best. Harry wrote to the Daily Prophet when he graduated and told his story, leaving out his name. He suggested that they find a way to do heritage tests on children to see if they were the next heir. Because he did so well in his studies, he became the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the curse having lifted with the death of its caster. He lived in Hogwarts with his wife, Ginny, and his children (none of whom were named Albus Severus) until he was 110 years old. He continued to control the castle and it’s wards with the other heirs. A committee was formed between the heirs and met in secret. Lady Hogwarts never let anyone will ill intent in, so she had no issue with evil people trying to control her. She maintained this form for 300 years until another war broke out, but that’s a different story.


	11. Cleaning Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry always felt Diagon Alley was a little dingy so he invents a way to clean it up.

AN: Thanks to my lovely beta, LadyLini, for all her help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all her help in my learning to do it on my own. all mistakes are still my own. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. 

hphphp++

In the little suburb of Little Whinging there was a house on Privet Dr. Number 4, to be exact. In that house, in the smallest bedroom, was a just-turned sixteen-year-old boy. This was no ordinary boy—this was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the Destroyer-of-You-Know-Who. Ever since he killed Voldemort, at the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts, he had led a relatively peaceful life. Since then, he had had time to work on a project that he had been thinking about ever since he had first stepped foot in the Leaky Cauldron. He was now putting on the last Rune to complete it. 

 

‘There, now this should work,’ Harry thought to himself. ‘But where to test it? Even if I could do magic here, this house is too clean to give it a good testing. I need to go someplace to charge and test it out, but where?’ Harry’s thoughts were racing to all the places he knew he could charge his project and test it. ‘The Leaky Cauldron is out, for now. I want to make sure it works before I try it there. Hogwarts is out because I can’t get on the grounds in the summer. That, and the teachers will want to know what I’m doing there, and I want to keep this a secret. Maybe when I get it tested, I can sell it to Fred and George. All right, back to my problem. Oh, I know! I will take it to Grimmauld Place. Only Sirius is there, and Merlin knows it’s dirty enough.’ 

 

With that, Harry put his project down on the bed and went to his trunk. He pulled out his wand, his moleskin pouch (that carried his money and a few other things), and his invisibility cloak. He took up his project again and put it in the moleskin pouch (which had an expendable charm on the inside) and slipped on his cloak. He went down the stairs slowly, avoiding the creaky step at the bottom. He looked into the living room and saw his Aunt Petunia watching TV. His uncle was at work, and his cousin was probably out terrifying the local kids. He snuck pass the living room and went out the door. He went down the street a few blocks and turned the corner, then went down a few more blocks. He went to an alley and took off his cloak, then put his wand into the air and called the Knight Bus. 

With a bang, the big, purple triple-decker bus stopped in front of him. 

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this afternoon. Where can we take you today?” the gangly man asked, as the bus came to a stop in front of Harry. “Oh, ‘ello Mr. Potter. Hey, Ern, look it’s ‘Arry Potter.”

“Hey, Stan, can you take me to Grimmauld Place? I can find the house from there.” Harry sighed as he got on the bus. 

“Sure thing, Mr. Potter. That’ll be eleven sickles, unless you want ‘ot chocolate or a toofbrush,” Stan replied. 

“No, thanks. Just the ride, please,” Harry said, handing the sickles over. 

The ride was just as bumpy as ever and seemed to only last a minute. Thanking Stan, Harry got off the bus and watched it leave. He then made his way to number twelve. It was still under the Fidelius Charm, but because Sirius was still a fugitive, he should be home. The house was going to be used as headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Even though he had told Dumbledore that Voldemort was indeed dead, the Headmaster had decided not to take the chance and reorganized the Order anyway.

Harry had managed to kill Voldemort in the graveyard when their wands had met during the duel after the fourth task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. When Harry had pushed the connecting beam back to Voldemort's wand, the backlash had killed Voldemort and a few of his Death Eaters, as well as allowed Harry to grab Cedric’s body and the portkey, then get away. It was too bad that he hadn’t gotten Wormtail or Mr. Malfoy. 

Harry had tried to tell the Ministry what had happened, but they wouldn’t listen. He tried to tell them that Peter Pettigrew was the one that had killed Cedric. But, again, they wouldn't listen. Harry had given up on the Ministry’s ability to help in any way. He was named Tri-Wizard champion, but he didn’t want it, so he had given the prize money to Fred and George Weasley, which they had then used to open a joke shop. After that, he had washed his hands of the whole matter. He knew that it would be next to impossible to find that rat now. Still, he and Sirius had concocted a plan…but that was another story.

Harry was brought out of his musings as he approached the front door. He knocked gently on the door, not wanting to wake Mrs. Black, and waited for Sirius. He heard footsteps approaching, then the door swung open, and there stood Sirius. 

“Harry what’re you doing here? Does your aunt know you’re here? I don’t think she would have let you come if you told her you were coming. She still thinks I’m a mass murderer,” Sirius exclaimed as he pulled Harry into the house and gave him a big hug. 

“No, she doesn’t know. I snuck out. It’s okay, though. I don’t think she will miss me until dinner. Not that she would care if I was here, anyway. I think she would be happier if you just offed me. I still don’t see why I can’t live with you, though. I mean, Voldemort is gone for good this time. Snape’s Dark Mark disappeared all the way. Anyway, I need a place where I can do a little magic undetected. I have a project I want to test, but I need your promise that you won’t tell anyone about it. Are you the only one here, or should we sneak upstairs?” Harry asked once he had returned the hug. 

“I’m hurt that you didn’t come just to visit your dear ol’ godfather, Harry. Hurt me right to the quick, you did. Nay, I am the only one here right now. Everyone else has jobs, remember? Even the teachers have some work they have to do in the summer, what with school starting in a month. They only get about three weeks’ vacation. McGonagall was complaining about that last time we saw her. She said something about how it should be extended now that they’ve finally had a good couple of years,” Sirius said as he steered Harry into the drawing room. 

“Oh, yeah, I remember that. Well, that’s good ‘cause I really wanna keep this as secret as possible. I might sell it later, but I want to test it first and see if there would be any long term problems before I make it public. That’s why I wanted to talk to you first—to see what you think. Then I might talk to Hermione; she’s pretty level headed. I figured I should ask people from both sides of the fence,” Harry said, laughing and ducking under the swipe that came at his head. 

“Brat. So, what is this project you want to show me?” Sirius asked with a chuckle.

Harry pulled open his moleskin pouch and pulled out what looked like a staff covered in Runes. He then pulled out his wand and tapped it to the staff, feeding the Runes a little bit of magic. The staff flared white for a minute, then calmed down and looked normal again, though the Runes did seem to glow just little bit. 

“Okay, I have been working on this since first year. It is a cleaning staff. I've had to do tons of research and needed to talk to the house elves. I spent a lot of time talking to Dobby about house elf magic and wanted to see if I could use it. When I found out I couldn’t, I started looking at other things. When I heard from Hermione what Runes could do in third year, I spent a lot of time in the library. But I still couldn’t find what I needed. So, one day I was wandering around the seventh floor, thinking about how much time I lost in my fourth year with the tournament. I was pacing back and forth in front of the tapestry of the man trying to teach trolls to dance, and this door appeared. I looked inside, and there was a shelf of books about forgotten Runes. Believe me, it was pretty weird. So, I studied the books and realized they were all on household charms that aren’t used anymore because they’re from a time when wands weren’t widely used, and the houses back then weren’t as big. 

“I had to read all those books, plus a Rune dictionary, to figure out all I needed to make this staff. It took months. I was going to work on it during last summer but that is when I found out that I couldn’t take the books out of the room. So, I had to wait ‘till this year to go back to the room and read more. This time though, I brought the things I needed to make the staff. I had to make about twenty of them before I could get it right. I needed to go into the Forbidden Forest at least three times to get more wood. Good thing the trees I needed were right inside the border. So anyway, I finally got most of the Runes I needed carved in this staff by the time the end of the year came. I needed to copy the books by hand to parchment. I only needed a few pages from three books. Anyway, I got it all copied down and put it in this moleskin bag so no one would know what I was doing. I practiced the Runes on paper then carved the last one this morning. Then I came here,” Harry said, taking a deep breath as he finished. 

Sirius chuckled and called for Kreacher to get something for his godson to drink. “So, what does this staff do?”

“It is a cleaning staff. One tap on the floor and it’ll clean the room you’re in. Two taps on the floor and it’ll clean the level you are on. Three taps on the wall and it’ll clean the inside of the house. I figured I’d do it this way for testing. Then, if I market it later, I would make three different staffs for different types of cleaning needs. Like, if a mother wanted to keep the downstairs area clean for guest but wanted her kids to have some responsibility and clean their own room without magic, she’d use the second staff. Or if she wanted to clean only her room on the family floor and not her kids’, then the first staff would be for her. Then the last would be for store owners and such. I don’t know what it’d do to a street, since there’s a lot of dirt outside, but I really don’t want to test that just yet. I think it’d clean the outside of the house, but if the house was like yours, attached to other buildings, I’m not sure it wouldn’t clean all the houses…then there would be some explaining to do,” Harry said, scratching the back of his head. “So I was wondering if I could test it on your house?” 

“Sure. Why not? It is not like Kreacher does this messy old house any good.” 

Harry tapped the floor with the staff once. Light started in a small circle where the carpet was noticeable cleaner, then it spread quickly, and in under a minute, the whole room was clean. The carpets looked freshly shampooed, the drapery looked freshly hung, the wallpaper was clean, the windows were cleaned on both sides, letting the sun shine through for the first time in years, the gas light fixtures were brighter after years of buildup was cleaned from the pipes, the furniture was clean though now you could see the rips and scuff marks, the portraits after years of neglect looked newly painted, and the chandelier was sparkling brightly, like it had just been polished. 

Both men let out a low whistle. 

“Damn, pup, that is one powerful stick you got there. Let’s see what it does to the kitchen floor,” Sirius said as he grabbed Harry’s hand and dragged him down one flight of stairs to the kitchen. 

“All right, Sirius I got it. Dang, give a bloke a minute, would ya?” 

Harry tapped the floor twice and, like before, it started out in a small circle, then spread. After the kitchen was clean, they went to the dining room to see if the whole floor was clean. After seeing that the whole floor was indeed clean, they decided to see if they could clean the whole house. So, they went to the third floor and Harry tapped the wall three times and, this time, there was a brightening on the wallpaper. The light spread off of the walls, across the room, then out the door. Harry and Sirius went up and down the whole house to see if it was all clean. They went to the attic and saw that all of the things that had been shoved up there had been cleaned, and all the dust was gone, along with all the cobwebs. It didn’t repair the old furniture or trunks, but it did clean them.

The only problem (which wasn’t really a problem just an annoyance) they could see, was that the staff didn’t repair things like the wood on the walls, floors, or stairs. So, if the house was damaged, all it did was clean out the cracks so that they were extremely noticeable. They did notice, when they went down the stairs, that the house elf heads, hanging on the wall, were still there, but were now cleaned, which was rather creepy. Even Buckbeak’s old room was clean. It was a good thing he didn’t stay there anymore, or the poor thing might have freaked out. 

Mrs. Black draperies were clean, and when Sirius peeked in, he could see that her portrait was clean as well, though he didn’t think that would help her personality any. They even looked in Kreacher’s little nook and noticed that it was clean as well. Kreacher didn’t seem too happy about that. Grumpy little elf. 

They went to the outside of the house and noticed that it was still dirty and in disrepair. “Do you think we should try to do the outside?” Harry asked. 

“Better not. If this house ever comes out of the Fidelius, I don’t want to have to explain to everyone why it is so much cleaner than the rest of the street or, like you said, you might wind up cleaning this whole block of houses, and there would be no way to explain that. Not even sure the Obviators could make up a believable enough story to cover that up. And it would draw the Ministry to this neighborhood, and we don’t want that right now,” Sirius said as they went back into the house. “Besides, didn’t you say you didn’t know what it would do if you used it outside? Might be a good idea not to test that anywhere there are people. Maybe you could find an abandoned house in the middle of the forest—that might be best. I doubt even that staff is powerful enough to clean an entire forest.” 

“So, what do you think so far? There’s one more thing this staff does, but I want to know what you think about the cleaning part first,” Harry said, nervously twisting the staff around between his hands. 

Sirius gently grabbed Harry’s hand to make him stop and said, “This is a really good staff, Harry. You did a wonderful job on it. I only have a few questions. Where are you going to use it, and how long does the cleaning last? And what is the second thing it does?” 

“Well, I told you that I started working on this in my first year, right? The reason I started it way back when was because the first thing I thought when I went into the Leaky Cauldron was ‘ew, this place it filthy.’ I couldn’t figure out why, if there was magic, they would live in and drink in such a disgusting tavern. I mean, I could understand it if they were trying to keep the Muggles out, but since there is a Muggle repelling charm on the Muggle side, that wasn’t it. So, I was holding off judgment until I got to Diagon Alley and, while it wasn’t as bad as the Leaky Cauldron, it was still pretty dirty. I was really impressed, at first, when Hagrid was walking me through The Alley. I’d never seen magic before, and it was all around me. After we left the bank and started to shop, I was not quite as impressed. I mean, in almost every store we went to, there were cobwebs and dust everywhere. The tapestries and carpets were all worn and torn, and, really, if we have all this magic, there really is no need for it to look like it does. 

“Years later, when I went back, and it looked exactly the same as before, I figured that the witches and wizards of this world were just raised that way and didn’t know better. When I asked the Muggle-borns in my year what they thought, they pretty much thought like I did, but they didn’t know how to say anything without insulting someone. When I asked the wizard-raised about it, they said that it had always been that way. When I went to the Burrow—you know, the Weasley house—, I noticed that, while Mrs. Weasley does clean, the magic she uses doesn’t really do a great job. It cleans the surface, but leaves a residue that digs deep down and makes everything look old and dingy. That, and the walls and ceilings were neglected. And even at Hogwarts, where there are house elves, there were tons of dirty rooms.

“So, I figured I’d see if I could find a way to clean up Diagon Alley and show the wizard-raised what clean looks like. Like I said, it took ages, but, as you can see, I finally did it. Now, I want to go to the Leaky Cauldron under my invisibility cloak, tap the staff on the back wall, and clean the whole store. I want to do the rest of Diagon Alley too, but I don’t think I want to do it all in one day. First of all, I don’t know if I would have the time and, second, I’d need to power up the Runes to recharge them, and I’m not sure how long that is going to take. So, that is my plan. I think it would make a pretty good prank, and, by doing in secret, it won’t insult anyone. It would take ages for them to try and figure out who was doing it. 

“As for the second thing it does, it has a slight cheering charm. Not as powerful as one that comes from a wand, just enough to nudge people into a happier mood,” he said, taking a deep breath from talking so much.

Sirius laughed. “That is a pretty good plan, Pup. I want to come with you when you do the Leaky Cauldron. I am pretty sure I can do a Disillusionment Charm and, with all the commotion going on while they’re looking for who cleaned the whole building without a spell, I shouldn’t be seen.”

“Actually, Sirius, if you come with me, you should come as Padfoot, wait outside, and look through the window. If my staff works, you should be able to see everyone inside. I’ll come out and get you, put on a hat and wig, then take you into Diagon Alley. We shouldn’t stay too long, though. I don’t want anyone to recognize you. We can do a few more stores while we’re there. I really should hit Gringotts. I’m running out of money, and I want to know how much I have in my account. I never really asked, ‘cause it was never an issue,” Harry said, smiling. 

He was finally, after all these years, going to clean up Diagon Alley. While it hadn’t been a very pressing thing while Voldemort was still running around, it had nagged at him every time he went to Diagon Alley to get school supplies. Besides, he had spent two weeks in the Leaky Cauldron. While the rooms were cleaner than the tavern (and that really didn’t make sense), they were still pretty dingy. 

It was about lunch time, so they went to the kitchen and made a few sandwiches, then took off down the road, Sirius as Padfoot and Harry as himself. He didn’t need to put the cloak on until they got closer to Diagon Alley, though they did have to put a leash and collar on Padfoot, which Sirius didn’t like. “Now, Padfoot, we’ve talked about this before. If you go out in public, you need to wear a leash and collar. You don’t want to spend the night in the pound, do you? I’d have to find a way to get some papers for you. If that were to happen, then who knows how long it would take to get you out. You’ll only have to wear them until we come back here. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” Harry said as he pulled the items from his moleskin bag. 

They took the underground to Charring Cross Road. There, Harry ducked into an alley and put on his cloak, then snuck in behind a wizard that was just entering. Harry made his way to the back of the tavern, where he tapped the wall three times. He noticed the head of the black dog looking through the window. As the tavern started to become clean, people were starting look around for the person who cast the charm. Some were starting to get nervous and scared, if only because they didn’t know what was going on. That didn’t last long though, as the cheering charm started to take effect.

Tom, the barman, was looking around in wonder. He had never seen his tavern look so new. He had bought the Inn around forty years ago, and it had already been around centuries before that. There had been a time when even Muggles had been welcome here, before the Statute of Secrecy in 1692. The Inn was very old. After the Statute had taken effect, the Inn hadn’t really ever changed. It was only about every twenty years or so now that the lighting and the housekeeping spell work was updated. Now the windows, walls, floor, ceiling, and the lighting looked clean and bright. Though the tables, chairs, bar, and even the dishes and glasses were all clean, he could see where they needed to be repaired or replaced. The people in the tavern looked grungier now that they were surrounded by a clean room. 

There was a commotion coming from the stairs—too many people were trying to get down at one time. They were tripping, pulling, and generally falling down the stairs. 

“Tom, you will never…” 

“Merlin, I’ve never…” 

“It is an omen…” 

“…never seen anything like it…” 

They all tried to talk at once. 

Harry snuck outside, trying to hold in his laugher. No one noticed that the door opened by itself. He grabbed a chuffing Padfoot on his way past, then went back into the alley. When they got into the alley, they both let forth their laughter. They calmed down quickly enough though, and Harry put his cloak back into his moleskin bag. He took out a blonde wig and baseball cap, then put them on. He had noticed before that the simple disguise was really all he needed to keep from being recognized. He put the staff back into his moleskin bag, then headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. The place was still in an uproar. Tom looked like he was in Heaven, and there was a huge smile on his face. 

Harry let out a long wolf whistle. “Damn, Tom, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the place look so good. You really did a good job cleaning this up. Did you do it yourself, or did you hire someone? Or did you get yourself some house elves?” Harry asked, trying to keep the laughter in and look innocent at the same time.

“I didn’t do this, though I’d like to know who did. I’ve no idea what happened. We were all sitting here eating lunch or, in my case serving, when all of the sudden, the whole room was clean. I thought it ended there, but people are coming from the rooms upstairs, saying that everything is clean up there, as well. I went to have a look-see and saw that it was true. The only thing I can see wrong is that I’ve got some repairing to do that I never noticed before, what will all the dirt hiding it. That, and I’m not sure how I’ll keep it this clean. I don’t think the cleaning charms we’ve been using will help,” Tom said with the big smile still on his face. He really didn’t seem put out that he would have to do some repairs. 

“That’s wonderful, Tom. Not really sure what is going on, but if you’re happy, then of course I’m happy for you. I need to get going, though. I’ve got to get to Gringotts. Come on, Padfoot, we need to go. Come on, boy. Good dog,” Harry said as they made their way to the back. Harry tapped the appropriate bricks and opened the way to Diagon Alley. 

“Where do you think we should go first? Hit the bank, then to random shops on the way out? Or do random shops on the way to the bank?” Harry asked his dogfather. Padfoot started heading down the cobblestone road toward the bank. 

Padfoot waited outside the bank in a nearby alley while Harry took care of his business. Harry waited in the queue for the next open teller. When he finally made it to the front, he asked if he could talk to someone about the balance of his account. The teller called another goblin to take him to see a manager. When they got to the office, Harry was told to wait. He waited for a few minutes, then was taken to an office that had the name Spearhead on the door. He was told to come in and offered a seat. 

“Hello, Mr. Potter. What can Gringotts do for you today?” the goblin asked. 

“Well, I was wondering if I could find out what the balance is for my account. I’m not really sure how you would keep track of all that, seeing as you don’t have computers. They really don’t teach this at Hogwarts, though I suppose if one really wanted to know, they’d either ask or find a book on it. It just never occurred to me to ask until this summer. With the end of school in sight, I suppose I should think about how I going to support myself when I graduate and how much money I have until I find a job that will support me. I mean, I know there was a lot of gold in my vault last year, but not how much. I’ve never received a bank statement, so I’m assuming you don’t use those. I really don’t know the cost of living in the wizarding world either, since I was raised in the Muggle World,” Harry rambled on as he was wont to do when put in an unfamiliar situation. 

“Don’t worry. You’re not the first Muggle-raised to ask this. Well, Mr. Potter, I suppose I should address these issues now that you have asked. Gringotts is more or less a bank. We don’t really operate like our Muggle counterparts. Though, we do offer other services and have other interests outside of banking. Can you imagine every goblin wanting to be a banker? That is like saying all wizards want to be Ministers.” The goblin grinned, showing just what he thought of that. “Because electricity does not work here, we cannot use computers, and, yes, we know what they are. However, we do have parchment that is enchanted to do something similar. These parchments are put into each vault, and once a day, the parchment sends its magic out and counts what is in the vaults. If you have come into the bank and taken money out of your vault, it will show on the parchment when it is next counted. It will do the same if money is put into your account. The parchments are hooked to books that are kept in a library on this floor and can be accessed by any manager. 

“There are security charms and curses on all our vaults that are included with the monthly fee everyone pays to store their gold here. You can add more security to your vault. How much more depends on how big the vault is and how much you want to pay above the standard monthly fee. The keys are charmed so that only you and whomever you hand it to personally can use them. For example, though Headmaster Dumbledore had your key until you were eleven years old, he could not use it because it was not personally handed to him. We do not send out statements, as owl post is not secure. If you want to know your balance, you must come to the bank and inquire about it. If you ask a teller, they will send you here. If you are outside of England, go to the nearest magical area, and there should be a Gringotts there. 

“You can also hand your key to someone you trust and they can inquire. However, you should be very careful in doing so, as they will be able to enter your vault and make withdrawals. You can set up a security measure so that if you hand your key to someone, they will only be able to use it once. After that, it must be handed to them again. 

“Now, as to what is in your account, let us see,” Spearhead said as he pulled a ledger from the bookcase behind him, having called it forth via magic when he was told who was waiting for him. “According to this ledger, your balance is 500,963 galleons, some sickles, and knuts. It seems that there have been many deposits added to your account since the ending of your fourth year. It looks like your money has double since then. I am sure it is just people letting you know via gifts that they are glad you rid us of the Dark Lord once and for all. Even if the Ministry doesn’t believe you, it seems that some of the public does. I am sure it will stop in a few years. You might also want to come back and go through all the gifts that are not monetary. There was a house elf assigned to this vault by the Headmaster to make sure there was nothing harmful. I believe you know him. His name is Dobby.” 

“Oh, how are they getting the money and gifts into my account? I know I have not received any letters or gifts, although I vaguely remember Professor Dumbledore saying something to me a few days after the graveyard. But I really don’t remember too much, since I was kinda in shock. I guess it doesn’t really matter. Thank you, Mr. Spearhead. I’ll go down to my vault now, if you could call someone to take me there,” Harry said, having taken off on a tangent. 

Spearhead called the other goblin back in, and Harry went to his vault, got some galleons and, as an afterthought, turned some of them into pounds. He went to the alley and grabbed Padfoot after putting his cloak back on. He let the leash drag on the street so as not to make it look like a ghost was walking Padfoot. He then went to a random store and tapped on the back of the store, then left, not staying to see the results. He made his way to the Junk Shop. Padfoot waited outside while he went to back, behind a shelf full of junk. He wanted to see what the cleaning staff would do with all this junk. So far it had only cleaned the cloth on furniture, cleaned dishes, and restored decorations. Harry tapped the wall three times, then turned around and watched. 

As before, it started in one spot and spread from there. As the magic worked itself around the room, different things started to repair. Things like the cloth on furniture, tapestries and draperies, things like books and clothes, however, did not. They were cleaned, but didn’t repair. Harry wondered why that was; he was going to have to look into that. He figured it had to do with furniture and draperies being part of a room and the fact that clothes and books weren't. Maybe he would talk to Hermione about it. 

After leaving the store, Harry ducked into an alley, took off his cloak, and put the staff in the moleskin bag. He had left his hat and wig on under the cloak. He and Padfoot left Diagon Alley and went back to Grimmauld Place. “Well, do you think there’s gonna be any issues with me doing this? I noticed that only some things were repaired, which is kinda of a good thing, because if I were to clean Flourish and Blotts and the books repaired, some of the old ones wouldn’t sell as well ‘cause no one would believe they were old,” Harry said after he put his wig and hat back into his moleskin pouch. 

“Well, Pup, I don’t see any issues with this. Did you see old Tom’s face? He couldn’t stop smiling. I think it’s a good thing. But you should talk to Hermione and see what she says. It is good to get a second opinion,” Sirius said. 

“I’ve got to get back to the Dursley’s. You should come and scare them again. They’ve pretty much ignored me since you did that. I’m only required to make one meal a day and clean my room. Though, I do tend the garden, but that is because I like it, not because I’m told to.” Harry said as he gave his godfather a hug. “But I’ll be sure to let them know that you send your love.” 

“Take care, Pup. And thanks for cleaning my house,” Sirius said as he waved Harry out the door. 

Harry took the Knight Bus to within a few blocks of the Dursleys’. He put his cloak back on and snuck back into the house. He almost made it up to his room when he heard his aunt call his name. He turned around and took of his cloak, probably scaring ten years off her life. “What do you think you’re doing using that freaky stuff in the house? Where have you been? I looked for you over an hour ago and couldn’t find you anywhere,” Petunia screamed at him. 

He often wondered why they screamed at him all the time if they wanted the neighbors to think they were normal. Did they really think that the walls held all that noise in? “I wanted to let you know that you are supposed to cook dinner tonight and Vernon wants you to make a roast, but now it is too late to get that started, so we are going out to dinner tonight, and you will have to fend for yourself,” she said more quietly.

“I went to visit my godfather. You remember him. He sends his love, by the way. Anyway, I don't want to get into a yelling match with you. I don’t want the neighbors to hear that you are, once again, keeping me in the house. So I snuck out. Though, if you keep yelling like that, I’m sure the neighbors will know all about it and all my sneaking around will have been for nothing,” Harry stated in a neutral tone. He really hated it there, but until he was seventeen or they cleared Sirius’s name, he was stuck here. He pushed past his aunt and headed to the kitchen to make himself dinner. 

Later that night, he gave himself a pat on the back for a job well done and went to sleep. When he woke up the next morning, he set about doing the last of his homework. He was waiting for the Daily Prophet to see if his store cleaning had made the paper. At about ten o’clock a.m., the paper came. And he surely did make the front page: 

Strange Happenings in Diagon Alley: Leaky Cauldron Clean for the first time in Centuries 

The article that followed was pretty close to the truth. It basically stated that the Leaky Cauldron and two other stores in Diagon Alley were cleaned with no one the wiser as to how it was done. There were quotes from the shop owners, stating that they had no idea how it was done and that they were okay with it happening. There were some more displeased statements regarding the fact that there were now repairs that needed to be done in the shops, but the repairs were all minor and could be done by the shop owners. So it was no big deal. There were speculations as to how it had happened, including one theory suggesting that a house elf gone feral had done it, though that had never happened before. It was also observed that people in the shops tended to be a little more cheerful. And happily bought everything they needed and maybe a little be more. All in all, it was a pretty good outcome. 

Harry was very happy to hear all this. He figured it would take him two weeks to clean up the whole alley. When he was done, he’d ask Hermione what she thought about selling these staffs. If she didn’t think it was a good idea, he’d just keep his and use it when it looked like it was needed. He didn’t know how long the cleanliness would last or if the spells used today would keep the stores clean. If he sold the staffs, he could sell one to each shop and make a little bit of money. He could then sell them to citizens and make a bit more. He really didn’t see much of a market for them. There weren’t that many witches and wizards in Britain, though he could probably sell them abroad. Then again, he wasn’t into for a profit, he just wanted wizards and witches to know they weren’t doing as well as they thought with their cleaning. 

HPHPHP

Two weeks later, Diagon Alley was completely clean and had never looked so good. One thing that did happen, though, was that, because the inside of the stores were so clean, most of the owners wound up cleaning the outsides of the stores as well. Harry then called Hermione to come over to the Dursleys’ and chat. 

Hermione showed up the next day. He took her up to his room and sat her down in his only chair. 

“Hey, Hermione, how has your summer been so far? Did you get all your homework done? What am I saying? Of course you did,” Harry said. 

“Hush, you. Did you get all your homework done?” 

“Yeah, believe it or not. Because the Dursleys aren’t treating me like a slave anymore, I have plenty of time. But that’s not why I asked you to come around—not that I don’t like your company. I wanted to get your opinion on something. Hold on, let me grab it,” Harry said as he went to his trunk and grabbed his moleskin pouch. He pulled out the staff and handed it to Hermione. 

“What is this? I recognize some of these Runes but not all of them. These are for cleaning. Harry, tell me you are not the one cleaning Diagon Alley. Why would you do something like that?” Hermione said as she put the staff on her lap. 

“Well, yeah. I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw the Leaky Cauldron. I mean, you can’t tell me you liked eating there with how dirty it was. I find it hard to believe that I’m the first one to think about this. I just might be the only one to achieve it. You can’t tell me that you didn’t notice that the rest of Diagon Alley was pretty much the same. I mean, compared to the Muggle World, you have to admit that it was pretty dirty. There were only a few shop that kept the dust off and those were Madam Malkin’s and Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. I figured that The Alley was stuck in the fifteenth century, when cleaning was not a priority. I just wanted to show them how much nicer it is to have their shops clean. I bet they have loads more customers,” Harry stated, waiting nervously to be yelled at. 

“I understand, really, I do. And I agree with you, for the most part. But what I want to know is why you felt you are the one who had to do this. And, why didn’t you want anyone to know? I mean, the Prophet is saying nothing but good things. Don’t you want to take the credit?” Hermione asked as she turned the staff over, examining the Runes and wondering where Harry had learned all this. She knew he didn’t take Runes in school. Besides, these Runes weren’t taught in class.

“Hermione, you know better than anyone how I feel about people looking at me. I mean, maybe it would be different this time because it was something I actually did. Not like being the Boy-Who-Lived, where I hadn’t done anything to earn my fame. Then, after I vanquished Riddle, only half of our society believed my story anyway, so I pretty much keep out of the public eye now. I’ve worked hard on that staff since first year. I’m quite proud of it. 

“As to why I felt it had to be done… You know my childhood, you know that I was worked like a slave in this house. Have you seen it? You could eat off the floors. I’ve done that since I was three, until I went to Hogwarts, and I still had to do it when I was home for the summer. I like it clean; it’s something I’m used to, something that has been drummed into my head since I could walk. I just don’t like to do it for the Dursleys while they sit on their fat arses and do nothing. 

“But the reason I am showing you this now is that I’m wondering if you think it would be a good idea to sell it now that people have seen what it can do. If you think it’s a good idea, I could have Fred and George sell it in their shop, and no one would know it was mine,” Harry said sheepishly. He then explained his plans for making three different staffs and how they would work and why he would make them that way. After he was done, he waited to see what she would say. 

“Well, the only thing I have read in the Prophet is that most of the shops needed to be repaired. But that could be a good thing. But you might be putting people out of their jobs. However, it could be said that they were not really doing a good job anyway. So I only see a few problems with this. You would need to get a patent for them, so no one could steal your ideas. Does the wizarding world have patents? You might ask Fred or George. I do have one question—well, maybe more than one. Why didn’t you ask me for help? Where did you get these Runes? Can I borrow the book you got them from?” Hermione asked eagerly, always wanting to quench her thirst for knowledge. 

“First of all, I did this by myself ‘cause it was something I wanted to do without help. Besides, you remember, we weren’t friends until after Halloween that year. By that time, I was determined to do it all on my own. I got the Runes in the Room of Requirement—remember how I showed you that last year? And lastly, no, you can’t borrow them ‘cause I couldn’t take them from the room.” He chuckled at her fallen face. “You’ll have to go there and check it out yourself, next year. But remember that if you want to copy anything, you will need to bring your own parchment and ink. I tried the Geminio spell, but I still couldn’t take the copies out of the room. The only way that will work is if you bring loads of parchment and ink to make the copy with,” Harry said, taking the staff back and putting it back in his pouch. “I’ll write to Fred and George about a patent—thanks for that. I knew you’d be the one to ask.” 

The two chatted for a few hours about the staffs, their summer, and the new school year coming up. They made a date for next week, when they would go get their school supplies. Hermione said she would write to Ron and let him know. 

HPHPHP

Harry did wind up getting the patent and spent his seventh year making all three staffs. He even cleaned Hogsmeade, though no one knew it was him. He gave the room staff to the Hogwarts house elves, as the whole house staff disintegrated when he tried to use it on Hogwarts; the castle was just too big. He offered one to Mrs. Weasley, but she declined, stating that she would purchase one when they came to the market. He did ask that she kept who made the staffs secret, and she agreed. 

He didn’t sell them through Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, as it was a joke shop. It took him a few months of the year after he graduated to find a shop that suited him to sell his staffs. He finally settled for Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, as they sold all sorts of stuff. The staffs sold well for many years, even abroad, and he made quite a bit of money. His kids never had to want for their childhood needs. 

All and all, it worked out pretty well, just because Harry had wanted to clean Diagon Alley. 

Hphphp

AN: I always thought it was weird that after growing up cleaning a house until it sparkled, that Harry would not find Diagon Alley a little dingy. I know if I were a Muggle-born/raised I would be totally disgusted and would want to call the health dept. on them. I really feel that it’s not the first time someone thought that. So I am going to have Harry clean it up.


	12. More Vaults?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out he is a descendant of Merlin, Gryffindor, Peverell, and Potter. It is explained to him why the goblins laughed at him when he asks about their vaults.

AN: Thanks to my lovely beta, LadyLini, for all her help in making these easier to read for you my readers. Also for all her help in my learning to do it on my own. all mistakes are still my own. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox. 

*blah* from Order of the Phoenix. 

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The war had been over for two months now, and the money Harry had taken before the Horcrux hunt was running out. He would have to go to the bank and hope he wasn’t killed when he got there. After he, Hermione and Ron broke into, and stole from, Gringotts; he hadn’t returned. 

He and Ginny were sitting at the Burrow talking about their wedding. One of the reasons he felt he needed to get things straight with the goblins. “Ginny, I need to go to Gringotts,” He said taking her hand and looking her straight in the eye. “It might be dangerous the goblins don’t like me right now. I told you what happened there, right?”

“Well, you kinda skimmed over that part. All I know is that you guys broke in and took something, but you never told me the whole story.” Ginny answered, curious now. 

“Ummm,” Harry said rubbing the back of his head, “well, you see, it’s kinda like this. After we escaped from Malfoy Manor, Hermione found a piece of Bellatrix’s hair and for some reason she still had Polyjuice in her bag. We had Griphook with us, that traitor.” He spat they might have lost the war because that greedy goblin took Gryffindor’s sword when they still needed it. “So she came up with the idea to get into Bella’s vault. Griphook said he would help us, so we went to the bank to get the cup,” He got lost in thought for a minute trying to put that crazy day in order. “Everything was going mostly okay until the alarms when off.” 

He was not going to tell her he had used one of the Unforgivables, maybe after they were married. Or maybe not, that would be kinda cruel to hide it from her until then. He’d have to think about it but not right now. One thing at a time. Gringotts first then sharing of secrets.

“They have a way to detect imposters, you see.” Harry continued giving Ginny his full attention now, “Anyway, Griphook took the sword after we grabbed the cup, and then alerted the guards to where we were. It was crazy we were surrounded, we started firing off stunners and then I got the brilliant idea to jump on the security dragon’s back. We destroyed the walls and the roof, making a hole big enough for us to escape. After we got out it took a while for the dragon to get low enough so we could jump off into a lake,” he sighed again pushing his hand through his hair. “So you can see why they might be tad upset with me?” He finished sarcastically.

“We need to talk to Bill,” Ginny decided after giving it some thought. “He’ll know what to do.” 

“Right, let’s call him, I guess,” Harry replied. 

“Don’t worry too much. If anyone knows what to do, it’ll be Bill.” Ginny said and she patted his knee, got up, went to the Floo and called her brother. 

Bill came through the Floo and settled in a chair across from the couple. “What’s up guys? Why do you look like you’re headed to your execution, Harry?”

“Ummm, you know we broke into to Gringotts, right?” Harry asked.

“Oh yeah,” Bill snorted, “I know all about that. You’re still a major issue when it comes to the goblins. They’re pretty put out that they can’t seize your vault for the damages you guys caused. Any idea how you’re going to pay them?” He asked seriously, it was because of the Golden Trio and Voldemort the goblins trusted wizards even less than they had before, it was a wonder he still had a job.

“That’s kinda what I want your help with. What do you think they are going to want? I mean, I have gold but according to that traitor Griphook, they don’t want gold.”

“If I remember correctly you inherited Sirius’ house, right?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, I haven’t been there yet. Kreacher is still cleaning it.” Harry said a little confused.

“I remember Sirius telling Mundungus about the cups and silverware being goblin-made,” Bill said hoping Harry would get what he was hinting at. “* ‘Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest.*’ I believe he said. Remember?”

Harry thought about everything he had learned from when they had been hiding at Shell Cottage. Harry wasn’t slow by any means; he just didn’t have his head together from the war, yet. Finally, it came to him. “Yeah, I remember that. When me, Ron and Hermione hid out there I noticed loads of it still there. I guess Fletcher didn’t have time to take it all. I think there’s something like, ten cups and all the silverware. I really didn’t have a change to go through the house though, being hunted and all.” He got a thoughtful look on his face, “You’re saying, I should offer it to the goblins as payment. I wonder if there’s more. Kreacher!”

*pop*

“Master is calling Kreacher?” the old house elf said. He was looking much better since he and Harry had hashed out Regulus’ last order to Kreacher. Once Harry had promised to destroy the locket, Kreacher had become a proper house elf and obeyed only Harry, though he still talked to that crazy old hag portrait of Sirius’ mother. 

“Yeah, Kreacher how much stuff in Grimmauld Place is goblin-made?” Harry asked.

“Mistress is having many things made by goblins. There is being: cups, silverware, vases, doorknobs, knives, and wall decorations. Is Master needed these things?” Kreacher asked curiously.

“Yes, I need you to gather everything goblin-made and bring them to me. Okay, Kreacher? I’m going to return them to the goblins. According to them and Bill here,” Harry pointed to Bill, “the Blacks only rented them and they need to be returned.”

“Mistress will not like this and will be telling Kreacher to punish himself if he does what Master wants. But Kreacher must follow Masters orders. Kreacher does not know what to do.” Kreacher mumbled and started to sway.

Harry got up from the couch, kneeled down, grabbed the elf firmly, yet gently, and looked into his confused eyes. He calmly said, “Kreacher, calm down. Listen to me okay? You don’t follow orders from that portrait; she is long dead, she is not real. Listen,” he said again, “calm down, remember you’re not to punish yourself, ever again. I told you that last time we talked. I know it is hard, but this must be done. For your Master.” 

It took a couple of minutes before the confused elf remembered himself, “Kreacher will do as Master asks. Kreacher will return shortly.” 

*pop*

Harry sighed and returned to his seat by Ginny, “I hate that thrice damned portrait. I wish there was some way to get it off the wall.”

“Harry,” Ginny started cautiously, Harry was touchy when it came to anything Sirius had left him, “why don’t you sell Grimmauld Place? It’s not like we’re going to be living there.”

Harry turned to Ginny, “Who would buy it, with that portrait screaming at everyone?”

“Let’s leave that on the back burner for now,” Bill said bringing their attention back to him. “What you’re doing with the Black stuff is a start. But Harry, you stole from Gringotts and that is a big no-no. You’re going to need a lot more than anything Kreacher brings. Do you know if you have inherited any other vaults? You may be the ‘owner’ of more goblin-made things.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders, “Nope, I know nothing of my history.”

“Well, when Kreacher comes back, I’ll take you to the bank and we’ll ask them to do a heritage test,” Bill offered. “I might be able to keep them off your back. I work there, you know? They still trust me, mostly.”

“Okay Bill,” Harry said. He turned and hugged Ginny, knowing she wasn’t going to like what he was going to say, “Ginny, you stay here, please. I have no idea how this is going to play out.” 

To his surprise she just shrugged said, “Sure, I never liked dealing with goblins anyway.”

*pop*

“Kreacher is having all goblin-made items that were in Master’s house. Kreacher is thinking there may be more in Mistress’ old vault.” Kreacher bowed and on rising he handed a rather large bag to Harry. “Is Master still needing Kreacher?”

“Thanks, Kreacher, you’re the best. No, you can go back to whatever you were doing.” Harry replied taking the bag.

*pop* Kreacher was gone.

“Okay, let’s go. The sooner we get started the sooner we can get it done,” Bill said rising from the chair. Harry gave Ginny one more hug and followed Bill to the Floo. They left for Diagon Alley and exited in the Leaky Cauldron. 

Once they got there, they walked through the Alley and noticed that a lot of shops were starting to rebuild. The Alley was thinly populated; most wizards and witches were still recovering from the war. Many Muggle-borns had lost their jobs, their family and their money, not to mention their lives, to that bitch Umbridge. ‘Azkaban was too nice of a place for her.’ Harry thought. 

Some people had got their jobs back, like Bill and Mr. Weasley, but the rest were still suffering. Harry wished there was something he could do to help. It was going to take a long time for the Wizarding World to recover. 

They made good time to the bank and the goblins that were guarding the door snarled at Harry. It was only because Bill was with him that they didn’t attack. Bill led him to a teller and said, “Mr. Potter would like to pay for the damages he and his friends caused. He would like to return all the goblin-made items he has possession of. He would also like to take a heritage test to see if there are any more treasures he can return.”

The teller was glaring at Harry but nodded curtly to Bill and replied, “Wait here.” He got down from his stool and went to one of the many doors littering the back of the bank. The two men waited patiently, though Harry was still very nervous. After about five minute the teller returned. “Follow,” he commanded. And turned back to the door he just exited. The men followed. 

They were led to an office and the goblin behind the desk was looking at Harry in a very hostile manner. “Strongfoot tells me you are here to pay us for all the damages you and your cohorts caused. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, ummm,” Harry looked at the name plate on the desk, “Steelblade, I want to do what I can to make things up to Gringotts. I know what we did was bad,” he understated, “but it was for a very good reason.”

“We don’t care about your reason,” Steelblade slammed his fist on the desk, “you violated many treaties. You are very lucky that we are still repairing damages, or we would be at war again.”

Harry shuddered at the thought of going to war so soon after the last one. “I’m here to stop that actually. I have some goblin-made stuff in this bag. And Bill tells me that there might be more I can return. He said I could take a heritage test and if I own more vaults, then anything goblin-made in those vaults will be given to Gringotts, without complaint.”

Steelblade gestured to the chairs in front of his desk, “Sit and let’s see if you are a man of your word.”

Bill and Harry sat in the chairs indicated. “I am a man of my word. It was Griphook that went back on his side of our deal. I was going to return the sword after we were done with it. It was vital to what we needed to do. If he hadn’t turned on us, we wouldn’t have had to destroy any part of your bank,” Harry said forcefully, thumping down the bag in front of Steelblade. Who stood up growling at the nerve of this human.

“Harry,” Bill snapped, “now is not the time for accusations. Let’s just get this done so you can put it past you.”

Harry calmed down a little, “Sorry, none of that was Gringotts fault. I shouldn’t have raised my voice, again I apologize.” 

Steelblade glared minute, took his seat again and waved it away, “Any deal you had with Griphook was between you and him. We are grateful that you saved him from Voldemort, however, that is neither here or there. Let’s started negotiations on what you have.”

Harry gestured to the sack, “This is what my house elf gather from the Black family home. He said there might be more in the vault. I have no idea what my family has.”

Steelblade looked in the bag and said, “This is a good beginning. As far as I know the Potters never commissioned anything from Gringotts. Let’s see if you have inherited anything else. You better hope there is more, or we are going to have to arrange something else.” He snarled then he set the sack to the side and took a parchment from a drawer, “Your family has not done a heritage test in over 500 years. Many lines have died since then. If you prick your finger and drop some blood on the corner of the parchment, we can see if there are any vaults left that the Ministry hasn’t seized.”

Harry did as instructed. A list of names started to appear. Steelblade waited until the writing stopped. “Well, well, well, aren’t you well connected?” he sneered, “According to this, you are related to Merlin, Gryffindor, Peverell and of course Potter. But that’s not all; you have inherited many vaults from wizards that that are of no relation to you. There is Ashland, Stewpots, Peircemore, and Crain. The latter vaults were willed to you when you vanquished the Dark Lord the first time. Their lined died out and they needed to leave their possessions to someone or the Ministry would have taken them.”

“So I have eight vaults?” Harry asked excitedly. There had to be loads of goblin-made stuff if he had eight vaults surely that was sure to be enough to appease Gringotts.

At first Bill and Steelblade looked at him in shock, and then they started laughing. Bill almost fell out of his chair, he was laughing so hard. Harry looked on with an open mouth, and then he started to get mad. “Why the hell are you laughing at me? What’s so funny?” he demanded.

Bill pulled himself together, shook his head and turned to Harry, “You never paid attention in history, did you?”

Harry got a sheepish look on his face; he and Ron always had Hermione doing the homework for that class. They felt they couldn’t really be bothered, “No, I, ummm, kinda couldn’t keep awake, and well Hermione usually did our history assignments.”

Bill shook his head again, “Well if you had paid attention, you would know that Gringotts wasn’t opened until 1474.”

“Yeah, so?” Harry asked still confused. 

“Harry, when was Hogwarts built?” Bill asked. Steelblade let the human handle this. 

“Ummm, somewhere in the 10th century, I think,” Harry was starting to get the idea of why they had laughed at him, feeling kinda stupid. He really hoped he could get over the war soon, so he could start thinking rationally. He was getting tired of his fuzzy head, ‘Maybe I should see a healer,” he thought. Then turned back to Bill who was still talking to him. 

“Right, are you getting it?” Bill asked a little concerned that Harry kept spacing out.

“Yeah, but won’t their, you know, descendants have used Gringotts? I mean there’s rumor that Merlin lived a very long time. He could have opened a vault. Some say he is still alive.”

They really needed to retire Binns if Hogwarts was turning out people as ignorant on history as Harry seemed to be. “Okay, let’s go through this,” Bill said seriously. “If Merlin were still alive do you think he would leave any way for wizards to know? If he opened a vault it would still be his and not any of his offspring’s. Follow me so far?” Harry nodded. “We don’t know how many kids Gryffindor had, so we have no idea who they are. History doesn’t tell us that. For all we know there are hundreds descendants. His name pops up on heritage test all the time, but none of them are directly related. So no, there isn’t a Gryffindor vault.” 

Bill had to take a minute to think about the next name on the list. “Ummm, Peverell died in 1291, and we know he raised a family and it’s said he at least had a son and a daughter. The name died out and so the daughter’s side inherited everything and she married into the Potters. So if the son’s side left anything, it would already have been absorbed to the Potter vault, including the Invisibility Cloak you already own.”

Steelblade took up the narration, “You do however own the other five vaults, and we will go through them and confiscate any of our treasures. You need to search any house connected to these names and keep your word.”

The sheepish look on Harry’s face became serious. “I always keep my word,” He said firmly, his eyes narrowing, remembering Griphook’s betrayal and Bill’s warning about dealing with goblins. 

“Yes, so you say,” Steelblade glared back. “Let’s find out and go over your assets.”

The three men sat for hours looking over what Harry had inherited. In the weeks that followed Harry sent Kreacher to all the houses to retrieve everything. Soon all goblin-made items in Harry’s possession were returned. The goblins received hundreds of them, which finally closed the deal. 

Harry wasn’t considered an enemy of the bank anymore. However, though he and his family were never treated hostilely, they only received curt and abrupt services. He never closed his, now combined, vault in fear of offending the goblins even more. It took hundreds of years before any of Potters were treated with any kind of respect in Gringotts. But it eventually did happen.

Ron and Hermione never had to worry about it because they didn’t open any vaults. When they started working they banked in the Muggle World. They did insist on paying Harry back for their part of the damages. 

Harry found out why he couldn’t think straight. He and Ginny suffered from Posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which is a serious mental condition that has lasting consequence of traumatic events. They did eventually go and see a mind healer, with the prodding from Hermione, since it helped her and Ron. They started to trust again and the nightmares were only coming once a week now. Together they healed and lived a very long and happy life with their children and grandchildren.

 

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AN2: I find it absolutely hysterical when people give poor Harry the vaults of those listed above (or any of the Founders), except the Potters’ of course, because they all died before Gringotts was ever opened. Well maybe Merlin was Immortal but that was never proven and if he was I doubt he would let wizards know by opening a vault in their bank. This of course makes me a hypocrite because I to have given Harry one or more of these vaults, but I did giggle the whole time. Anyway a far more canon oneshot explaining why this impossible. In my humble point of view of course. The ending might be cheesy, but I’m keeping it.

AN3: Before you jump on me about Harry’s lack of wit, remember he just finished a war. He was on the run for months. He lived seven years fearing for his life. He was emotionally abuse by his family. One does not come back from his whole life being crap to it suddenly not. It will take time for him to start thinking rationally, he will be confused until he gets some help. I don’t know if Wizard’s have mind healers, but for the sake of this fic, let’s hope they do. 

AN4: Below is what I pulled of Harry Potter Wikia:

Merlin: the entire placement of Merlin at Hogwarts is paradoxical. Hogwarts was founded in the 9th/10th century, and while the early 9th century was the time the first records of the Arthur-myth were written, the actual myth plays around the year 500 A.D., meaning that the 'historical' Merlin in fact predates Hogwarts by roughly five-hundred years. However Merlin, being the wizard he is, was probably allowed adult education to further his magical studies and abilities in the search to become more powerful. (AN: Which is where some people get the idea that he was Immortal.)

Godric Gryffindor is believed to have lived and died in the 10th century.

Ignotus Peverell (12 July, 1214—18 May, 1291)

It (AN: Gringotts) was created by a goblin called Gringott, in 1474.


	13. How’d She Get up There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: How did Mrs. Norris get up on the torch holder?  
> AN: the new chapter posted is chapter 2 "Replacing Binns With Isobel" I'm trying to keep them in chronological order. if this is too confusing or frustrating for you guys let me know and I'll stop.

**AN: I am flying solo on this one, no beta.**

AN: so I have a question, do you think I should keep these all in one place or separate them? I know some can be expanded on and it would work better if I separated them. Like ‘Who Shot Snape?’ Or the two with Millie (‘We’ve Tried’ and’ What? We Can’t Run?’) and a few other. let me know, if you are on ffn there's a poll, if not then review this chapter.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox.**

Hphphp

Harry, Hermione and Ron were going to the tower after Nearly Headless Nicks Death Day party. They wonder through the upper floors and stopped when they came across writing on the wall in big blood colored letters. The words said:

*THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

“What’s that thing — hanging underneath?” said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped — there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it.

All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash. Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.*

They stared a minute. “How do you suppose she got up there?” Hermione asked, a little fearfully. Her mind jumping on the first thing it could think of.

“Don’ know,” Ron said, rubbing the side of his nose. “Do you really think that’s the important question right now?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, though he was kind of curious as well. “I think we’d better get out of here, tell the truth. No telling what people are going to say if we’re the only one here.” Good thing he carried his _Invisibility Cloak_ with him everywhere now. He had someone charm a pocket in all his clothes to expand to hold it.

“Yeah,” Came two replies. They heard the students coming from the Great Hall and Harry quickly took out his cloak and pulled his friends to the wall and covered them in it. The rest of the student body was just coming around the corner. The first line of students stopped and stared at the words on the wall.

“Oh, Merlin, do you…..”

“What is that?”

“What do you think it…?”

The students were all talking over one another. Harry grabbed his friends elbows and creeped sideways to the back of the crowd. His reasoning is to be seen, but not as the first on the scene. They went around the corner pulled off the cloak.

“I can’t believe there was no food at Nick’s Death Day Party,” He said loudly, hoping his friends caught on.

Ron, bless his heart, picked it up immediately, “Yeah, I’m starved, we shoulda left earlier. I can’t believe you made us stay, Harry. Wha’ ya do that for?”

“Oh, stop complaining, both of you,” Hermione said, completing the charade. “It’s not like you don’t have a ton of candy in your trunk.” She stopped at the end of the crowd. “What’s going on? Why have you all stopped here?”

Nearly Headless Nick had been floating through the walls completely depressed his party didn’t go as he liked. He had caught on to the children who had tried to cheer him up earlier attempt to make an alibi and floated to the front of the crowd. “Oh dear, It looks like someone killed Mrs. Norris,” he said, and then looked to the trio standing nervously in the back. “It’s a good thing you three were with me. Or you might be dead as well. That’s what happened…”

“That is quite enough, Sir Nicolas, let us not frighten the children,” Dumbledore had arrived, along with his usual circle of professors: Snape, Flitwick, McGonagall, and even Lockhart.

Filch, the caretaker had just spied his cat and was screaming accusations at Draco Malfoy, who happened to be in the front of the crowd loudly stating that the ‘Mudbloods’ would be next. Many of the student body were watching him with distrust in their eyes, something he seemed to take pleasure in. Dumbledore turned again to the crowd after examining the cat, “It is time for all of you to go your common rooms. Sir Nicolas, would you be so kind as to come with me?” He looked ghost and waited for the nod of conformation, then looked at the trio and Malfoy, “You four as well.”

“Why us?” Harry asked in a loud voice. “We just got here.” His two friends nodded.

“Professor, I don’t understand, what could we possible have to say about any of this?” Hermione asked miffed at being signaled out in front of the crowd after Harry had done all he could to prevent that. Sometime she wondered if the headmaster took pleasure in making Harry the center of attention. “Everyone here saw us come in behind them. Plus, Sir Nicolas can verify where we were all night. Are you accusing us of something?” she glared at the twinkly eyed man.

Harry was looking around at the other students, “You guys saw us come in after you, right?”

There were many nods and ‘yes’s’ as students turned to the headmaster to confirm that they had indeed seen the trio come in after them, complaining that there had been no food at the party of ghost.

“Nevertheless, I need you to come with me. The rest of you students, please go to your dorms,” The Headmaster said, twinkle in his eyes. And so the four, second year students, followed the barmy old man to the DADA classroom.

*As they entered Lockhart’s darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her.*

Draco, *Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching. The tip of Dumbledore’s long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris’s fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking.

Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile.* except when he as looking at his student, then a frown contorted his face.

*And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions. “It was definitely a curse that killed her — probably the Trans-mogrifian Torture — I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her. …”

Lockhart’s comments were punctuated by Filch’s dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. Much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself. *

*Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened: She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

“… I remember something very similar happening in Oua-gadogou,” said Lockhart, “a series of attacks, the full story’s in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once. …” The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.

At last Dumbledore straightened up. “She’s not dead, Argus,” he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

“Not dead?” choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. “But why’s she all — all stiff and frozen?”

“She has been Petrified,” said Dumbledore.*

“Petrified?” exclaimed Draco, who up to this point had been sneering at Harry. “Who would want to go around petrifying a cat? If I were the Heir of Slytherin I would want to kill the mangy thing just of cluttering up the halls of this school.”

“Silence, Draco,” came Snape’s soft voice from the shadows at the back of the room, “you don’t know what you’re saying. Keep your peace, you foolish child.”

“Now, Severus, it is only child boosting. Do not fret so,” Dumbledore mused, still looking at the stiff cat. He turned to the caretaker, “Take her to the Hospital Wing and tell Poppy the mandrakes will be mature a few months for the restoration potion. She can then…”

*“I’ll make it,” Lockhart butted in. “I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep —”

“Excuse me,” said Snape icily. “But I believe I am the Potions master at this school,”

There was a very awkward pause.*

Flitch finally stood, glared accusingly at young Malfoy, took his precious cat and left the room with her.

“Headmaster, why are we here?” Hermione asked again, still confused.

“I will be with you in just a minute, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, a bit abruptly. He then turned to the blonde Slytherin. “Mr. Malfoy? It is my understanding that you were spouting vile names at your fellow students. May I ask why you would do so when it is clearly against school policy?” Dumbledore asked, disappointed look on his face, but that thrice damn twinkle still in his eye.

Draco looked at the aged man a minute. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor. I was as scared and confused as everyone. What I would like to know why Potter and his friends weren’t at the feast. Isn’t it mandatory?” he asked with a smirk. Turning everyone’s attention away from him and to his enemy. Professor Snape giving silent applause in his head for such quick thinking.

“We were at the Death Day party. Right, Nick? Not our fault he died on Halloween,” Ron snapped, defending his friends quickly. “We’re starved, there wasn’t any food there. But hundreds of ghost saw us, even Moaning Myrtle.”

“You should know you made her cry,” Sir, Nicolas scolded he then turned to the waiting professors. “They were all at the party. I was remiss in not informing them that they should have eaten before they attended, nevertheless, they were there. They only left five minutes before we came upon the crowd of students. They stayed behind to cheer me up. Party crashers, you know. I should be used it, it happens every year,” the nearly headless ghost sighed, depressed again. Gaining sympathetic looks from the three second year Gryffindors.

“Ah, yes, I remember the same from my youth. Very well then, you three may leave,” he smiled at Harry.

The children left the room in a great hurry, still not sure why they had been signaled out in the first place. (But that was a mystery they wouldn’t solve until their sixth year)

“I still want to know how Mrs. Norris got up on the torch holder,” Hermione mused, not liking unanswered puzzles and determined to solve this one.

“Why is that so important?” Harry asked.

“Well, think about it. If something came along and froze her. Then that something had to have opposable thumbs to put her up on the holder. Of course, they would have to have those anyway, to write on the wall. But, why?”

“Well,” Ron started, scratching his head in thought, “she could have jumped in fright or something and got caught there.”

Hermione gave him a rather doubtful look. “It might be possible, yes, but highly unlikely. I am also wondering about the elevation of the holder. It could be anyone. However, an adult would have hung her on the torch above the words —not below it. So we are probably looking for a student.”

“It could have been Peeves,” suggested Nearly Headless Nick, who had ghosted besides them, “He is always making mischief.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Hermione conceded. “I’m probably just making too much of it. But if there is a monster in the castle that is going around petrifying people, or in this case, animals, then it truly might be a clue as to who it is.”

“I think Hermione it right, it’s a student and from the height of the letters and Mrs. Norris—it’s someone our age,” Harry concluded.

Hermione beamed at him, “Thank you, Harry. My reasoning exactly. Now all we have to do is figure out who else in our year wasn’t at the party.”

This turned out to be a relatively easy task, the only other two who were not there were Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley. They brought their findings to McGonagall one evening right before curfew.

“Professor, we have a theory about who petrified Mrs. Norris,” Hermione started.

“And what makes you think that you would know something the professors here do not?” the stern woman replied, looking over her glasses at her most second most troublesome students. The twins, Ron’s brothers, being her first.

“Ya know, Professor, it was the same thing you said to us last year, when we came to you about someone stealing the stone. It turned out we were right then. Not sure why you keep doubting us,” Ron said, a firm voice but with a confused look on his face. _Don’t adults ever learn?_ He wondered.

The woman looked thoughtful for a moment, “Very well, tell me what you think, and if I feel it needs to be passed on then I will let the headmaster know.”

The other two looked at Harry, who sighed, “Well we were wondering who put Mrs. Norris on the torch holder. We figured from the tallness of the words and the holder, it must be someone our age. So we did some asking around and found that the only other two who weren’t at the feast was Miss Lovegood, a first year Ravenclaw, and Ginny.”

“Are you trying to get your own sister in trouble Mr. Weasley?” the Transfiguration Professor asked, turning her tight gaze to the youngest male Weasley.

“Of course not, don’t be daft —ummm sorry,” he said sheepishly, realizing who he was talking to. “But there’s something wrong with Ginny, she’s not doing anything but mooning at Harry, here and writing in a black diary. I’m not sure where she got that book either; Mum didn’t buy if for her. She looks terrible, her hair is all uncombed and there’s dark circles under her eyes,” Ron said looking pleadingly at his Head of House, hoping she would do her job and help his sister. “When we asked where she was that night, she said she didn’t remember. Looney, I mean Lovegood, was locked in her dorm. She said the nargles did it. But some of her dorm mates confirmed that’s where she was. Makes me worry about Ginny even more, what with her not remembering anything.”

McGonagall frowned at that. “Very well, I will pass your message on to the headmaster. However, you three keep out of this from now on. Don’t go around spreading any rumors. We will take care of it. now go back to your dorms.”

The three did as they were told. “You know Hermione, it’s a good thing you like to ask questions,” Ron said. “Don’t think the adults ever ask enough anymore.”

Hermione was happy with this praise from the usually complaining red head. “Thanks Ron, I’ll remember this for the next time you call me crazy for asking something,” she replied giving him a hug.

Because of these questions Ginny was found with the Diary and to have hung Mrs. Norris on the holder. The staff couldn’t get the Chamber of Secrets reopened, because she didn’t remember where it was. The Diary was unhelpful and finally destroyed. No students were harm. Malfoy lost face to the student body. And the Basilisk was never found. Harry had a good year.

Hphphp

**AN2: I always wondered why no one questioned how Mrs. Norris got up there. Here is my theory. I hope you enjoyed it. Remember R &R.**


	14. 18. That Can’t Be What Happened

_**18\. That Can’t Be What Happened** _

_**Summary: Someone questions how Peter survived the blasting curse that killed the muggles and had enough time to cut his finger, turn into a rat and disappear without injury.** _

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter that pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox.**

**Hphphp**

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were in the Shrieking Shack with two Professors, a rat-turned-man and an escaped convict. The convict in question was explaining how he had been framed for the murder of the said rat-turned-man “…Just before he transformed,” said convict. “When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I’d betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself — and sped down into the sewer with the other rats. …”

“Wait, what?” Hermione interrupted the man confusion in her voice. Her logical mind finding fault in that one statement. “How did he survive the blast, and how did he have time to cut off his finger then transform and then scurry down the sewers? I mean, think about it. If he blasted the street, then even with a shield, he would have been thrown several feet away. You didn’t mention any other spells, except the blasting spell. His finger was found right next to the hole in the ground. You didn’t even mention he cut his finger. None of that makes sense.”

“Hermione is right,” Harry agreed with a nod. He had seen enough explosions on the telly to know that nothing stays around the area of the blast. “He would have been thrown away from the explosion.”

“Are you sure that’s what you saw?” Hermione questioned the very dirty man in the torn and equally dirty prison garb.

“Of course I know that’s what I saw, the whole thing played on my mind for twelve years. Over and over and over; again and again and again,” Sirius Black replied with a crazed bite to his voice, put out from being questioned when all he wanted to do is kill the rat.

“No, Sirius, they’re correct when you think about it. Here, let me stun Peter and we’ll suss this out,” Remus stayed his friend’s hand, once more. He cast a stunning spell on rat-turned-man and turned back to the conversation. “Now, try and remember, Peter is running from you,” he started the turn of events running like a picture in his head. “Then he turns in the middle of a Muggle street and starts yelling that you killed Harry’s parents, which might be when he cut his finger off. That is when you said he cast the blasting hex and blew up the street. Right there is where you must be muddled, because the students are correct, if he did blast the street from behind his back, he would have flown straight at you,” he surmised with a shake of his head.

Sirius just thumped on the ground in confusion. He knew what he saw, didn’t he? Well, his was kinda out of it with anger at the time, and after Peter disappeared, he was beyond hysterical. Did he see what he saw? Beside with magic anyone could have changed his memories. He hadn’t been paying attention to who did what to him between the time he saw the rat disappear and him waking up in Azkaban.

The shack groaned and Ron groaned with it, his leg still hurt from when the crazed killer had pulled him and his rat, Scabbers, into tunnel that lead to the most haunted house in England. Now he was trapped with said killer, his most hated professor, Scabbers-turned-Pettigrew and another professor that could turn into a werewolf at any minute. He and his best friends were in great danger and all they wanted to talk about was semantics. Barmy, the lot of them. He groaned again in pain and worry.

Hermione looked at her hurting friend and seeing him eye Lupin with worry, like the professor was going to bite him at any minute, reminded her that the werewolf hadn’t taken his potion and the full moon was rising. “Professor Lupin, you either need to check to see if Professor Snape brought your potion or you need to get out of this shack before you kill us all or worse —turn us,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Oh, Merlin,” the greying man said and rushed to check to see if the Potions Master had his potion on him. He didn’t. “I’ve got to go, Sirius… Sirius… SIRIUS… snap out of it,” Remus yelled shaking his friend, he didn’t have time for hysterics, he needed to get the hell out of here. He could feel the moon’s pull. He noticed the vacant look in Blacks eyes dissipate a little and then thrust his wand into the convict’s hand. “Here take my wand. I’ve got to go now and get as deep into the forest as I can.” And with that all but flew up the tunnel out of the shack.

Sirius got up with a shake of his head and started pacing. He cast a shield on the tunnel entrance to make sure that nothing could get in. They were going to have to send a message if they wanted to rescue the kids. Mumbling to himself ignoring everyone for a few minutes he tried to get his chaotic thoughts together. He dredged up his grief and seeing James died. He recalled handing Hagrid his keys to his motorbike, so the gentle giant could get baby Harry to safety. He remembered tracking down the traitor. He was standing in the middle of the street, wands raised, and then Peter shouted for all to hear that he, Black, was the traitor, which stunned him so much that he faltered. He remembered the blast, but everything is topsy-turvy until he sees Peter in rat form scurrying down the drain. Why, why, why? Can’t he remember? Being convicted of a crime he didn’t commit he had to make sure he was going to kill the correct man.

“I need Snape!” Black suddenly declares startling the children huddled on the bed. They had gathered there to protect Ron, when the man started talking to himself. Now they raised their wands at the man, the few curses they knew on the tip of their lips. He ignored them and stalked over to his childhood nemesis and cast a spell to tie ropes around the hated man. Then he revived him. “Shut up Snivellus,” he sneered in to the man face, the borrowed wand pointed directly at him. “You were a spy, right?”

Snape looked at the chaos that was Blacks eyes, there was little sanity there, and reluctantly nodded. He felt as though he had just signed his death warrant giving this information to the supposed secret right hand man of the Dark Lords. But going through the ways he could get him and the children out of the shack even if he had to kill the man in front of him, not that that would be great burden.

“Good,” Black said ignoring the shocked look on the Potion Masters face, “then you can read minds, right, I mean retrieve memories?” Snape nodded again. “I want you to look at my memory of that night and tell me what you see between the time Peter yelled and the time he escaped.”

A now very confused Snape was weighing his options. If this man was the right hand man of the Dark Lord then he would be doing him a favor, if not then he would be doing Dumbledore and Potter a favor by making sure the world knew this convict was guilty. On the other hand he hated Black with every fiber of his being. He wiggled a little to see if he could escape. He couldn’t. If nothing else Snape was a survivor, he would do whatever he needed to come out of a situation alive. He looked into those stormy eyes and cringed. Everything Black remembered was jumbled, there were no clear memories of that time. He looked away and disconnected the link.

“I am going to need to look at Pettigrew’s; your mind is too muddled from all the years exposed to Dementors. They have taken all your good memories, you only have the bad ones left,” the professor said. He looked to the children, they still had their wands in hand, and he sneered at them, secretly glad they were safe. “Where is the wolf?” he questioned the know-it-all.

“He ran out, when he realized you didn’t have his potion,” she shakily answered. Her wand never wavered though.

“He finally did something right then.” Snape turned back to Black, “Black, I need to look into Pettigrew’s mind,” he reminded the man.

“Right,” Sirius brought himself back to the present, thinking he would die before he went back to that hellhole they call a prison. He stalked across the room and with strength that belied his near skeletal form, he dragged the short fat man by his foot with little effort. He cast the same rope spell on the rat, propped him up against the wall next to Snape, and revived him. “You stinking rotten traitor, you’re going to let Snivellus look at your memory of that night, or I’m going to kill you no matter what anyone says. Do you hear me, traitor?” Black said pointing Remus’ wand directly at that rat-like nose.

“Sirius, please, please, I didn’t mean…” and he stopped and whimpered when a hand came across his face.

“Do it Peter, turn you head an look into Snape’s eyes and recall that night, or you die in the next moment,” the dead serious in that rattling voice was all the whimpering man needed to comply.

The kids looked on, two anxious to know the answers, the other in pain and not caring. Hermione had tried to cast a numbing charm, but she hadn’t really studied them yet. The groan did remind Harry that there were three adult wizards in the room, but he didn’t trust any of them with his friend. He did see how that rope charm was cast though, so he looked around the debris ridden room and looked for some splints. “Hermione, look for some splints, we can’t set his leg, but maybe we can splint it up so it doesn’t get worse” he whispered to her and nudged his friend to get her attention.

Hermione heard him and started quietly taking a look around. They found some broken pieces of a chair and quietly snuck to get them, the adults disregarded the children as doing nothing of importance. Soon enough they had Ron leg splinted and wrapped, it helped with the pain, so they turned their attention back to the drama playing out on the other side of the room.

Snape had just broken his link with Pettigrew and turned to Black. “Everything you remember up till the blast is exactly correct; however, Pettigrew was thrown to you during the blast. He landed right in front of you and begged for his life, you however, were in shock from the explosion, so he took advantage of you and cast and confusion charm on you, probably hoping you would remember nothing, but being the weak wizard he is his didn’t get it correct. Anyway I digress, he then apologized for killing the Potters, cut his finger off, threw it near the hole, transformed into the rat his is, and disappeared,” he recanted in monotone hating that he was wrong and his hated childhood enemy was indeed innocent of any crime.

“So I am only a little crazy, well that helps…” Sirius trailed off at the sound of a wolf’s howl. The children screamed in fright. “Don’t worry he can’t get in here in wolf form with that shield up. Snape, we need Dumbledore for the children,” he said in a demanding tone. “Can your black heart do a _Patronus_?”

“Untie me and give me my wand and I can contact the Headmaster, since your brain is too far gone to even conjure up the simplest happy memory,” Snape sneered, his lip curled in the distaste that not only would be saving Potter, but also Black.

“Your word that you will not harm anyone here and that you will tell the truth to the Headmaster,” Black said.

“My word, if you’ll have it,” Snape agreed.

So Sirius untied Snape, gave him his wand, backed away from the man with Remus’ wand at the ready. Snape glared at Black then raised wand cast the Patronus, and spoke to it, “Black is innocent, Pettigrew is alive, your Golden Trio and I are with them in the shack, the wolf hunts the forest, I await your instruction.” The doe shaped _Patronus_ flew through the wall to deliver its message. Snape then turned to Black and said, “Now, we wait.”

What happened after that is a new story.

**Hphphp**

**AN: just a quick one shot about something that kept me awake one night. My take on Sirius gets free using logic. Makes a good prolog, if someone wants to carry it away.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: so I have a question, do you think I should keep these all in one place or separate them? I’ll be putting a poll on my profile to get your opinion, I know some can be expanded on and it would work better if I separated them. Like ‘Who Shot Snape?’ Or the two with Millie (‘We’ve Tried’ and’ What? We Can’t Run?’) and a few other. So take the poll or review me your answer here on AO3 and let me know.


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